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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26145085">we can touch the spaces</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/monograph/pseuds/monograph'>monograph</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Stray Kids (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - College/University, Character Study, Drunken Confessions, Epistolary, Existential Crisis, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Han Jisung | Han-centric, Late Night Conversations, Long-Distance Friendship, Love Confessions, M/M, Navel-Gazing, Personal Growth, Personal Philosophies, Pining, Recreational Drug Use, Slice of Life, Slow Burn, Temporarily Unrequited Love, Time Skips, Vignette</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 11:14:38</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>90,999</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26145085</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/monograph/pseuds/monograph</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Minho says, <i>“it's possible to find happiness even amidst all the chaos. It's not 'either-or.'”</i></p><p>And so, in the middle of a cold, sleeting winter, Jisung finds answers, the stars and Minho.</p><div class="center">
  <p>
    <b>...</b>
  </p>
</div>Or, Jisung learns a lot about himself and his world from the ages of nineteen to twenty-four, and in the space between two confessions.<p>A story in four parts.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Han Jisung | Han/Lee Minho | Lee Know, Minor or Background Relationship(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>109</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>253</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>｡:°ஐ angst</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Part I</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>
  <span class="small">◦ Back in May, I started writing a fic with a simple premise, “what if the eight of them have a reunion at Minho’s seaside cottage? And what if Jisung goes there before them to help Minho set up, and they confront their past?” It was supposed to be 10k at most. But, as I wrote, I thought to myself, “I think this needs a wee bit of backstory and context.” Famous last words. The fic just grew and grew and it became more and more complex. </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="small">◦ So here I am with a fic that is six times the size of what I originally intended to write. You know how you look at certain puppies and they look so small and adorable that you keep cooing at them and feeding them? Then one day you wake up to a gigantic dog and you're like, "weren't you the size of my palm a few months back?" This has the same energy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="small">◦ The fic is complete but the last two parts are still being edited. I'm pretty excited about this tbh. This is the longest work I've written with overarching themes and stuff haha. I hope you enjoy it!</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="small">◦ Note: Jisung and Minho date OCs in this chapter, but the OCs are just mentioned and they don't get significant screen time. </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="small">◦ Title comes from Emily Dickinson's Dawn.</span>
</p><p>This is for K. Happy birthday &lt;3</p>
    </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Back in May, I started writing a fic with a simple premise, “what if the eight of them have a reunion at Minho’s seaside cottage? And what if Jisung goes there before them to help Minho set up, and they confront their past?” It was supposed to be 10k at most. But, as I wrote, I thought to myself, “I think this needs a wee bit of backstory and context.” Famous last words. The fic just grew and grew and it became more and more complex. </p><p>So here I am with a fic that is six times the size of what I originally intended to write. You know how you look at certain puppies and they look so small and adorable that you keep cooing at them and feeding them? Then one day you wake up to a gigantic dog and you're like, "weren't you the size of my palm a few months back?" This has the same energy. </p><p>The fic is complete but the last two parts are still being edited. I'm pretty excited about this tbh. This is the longest work I've written with overarching themes and stuff haha. I hope you enjoy it!</p><p>Note: Jisung and Minho date OCs in this chapter, but the OCs are just mentioned and they don't get significant screen time. </p><p>Title comes from Emily Dickinson's, Dawn.</p><p>This is for K. Happy birthday &lt;3</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>Prologue</b>
</p>
<p><em> 15</em><em>th </em> <em> December 20__ </em></p>
<p>Jisung startles when his phone chimes.</p>
<p>He saves his document – this is the sixth time in fifteen minutes – makes a face at the paltry amount of words and closes the window. He rolls his chair back, kicks his feet up on the table and opens the message. It is from Minho; a foregone conclusion since only his number is exempt from the iron fist of the productivity app that Jisung uses. He opens it with a light flutter in his stomach.</p>
<p><b>Minho</b>: So…</p>
<p><b>Minho</b>: You know it’s winter holidays, I kind of don’t want to stay alone in a bare apartment when I come back 🙈🙈</p>
<p><b>Minho</b>: It’s not been used for quite a while</p>
<p><b>Minho</b>: So I was just thinking if I could maybe, if you are okay with it, stay with you for a day or so? </p>
<p><b>Minho</b>: If it isn’t too much trouble 🥺🥺🥺</p>
<p>Jisung doesn’t even pause to think. He texts Minho an affirmative.</p>
<p>───────</p>
<p>Jisung goes to Chan and Changbin’s apartment in the evening.</p>
<p>“You were over the moon because Minho was coming back,” Chan says during early dinner, sprinkling chili flakes over his omelette. Jisung notices Changbin frowning at him, but Chan smiles apologetically and picks up the ketchup bottle. “What happened all of a sudden?” He squeezes the bottle.</p>
<p>Jisung’s stomach clenches. “You know what happened,” he says, thinking of the way his stomach flutters every time Minho texts him. “I’ll end up making a fool of myself just like – just like before.”</p>
<p>“Hmm,” Changbin says over the sound of Chan whacking the ketchup bottle’s bottom. “Maybe it’s an opportunity,” Changbin turns to Chan, “Please stop, this is a serious discussion.”</p>
<p>“Why is this an opportunity?” Jisung demands even though there’s a tell-tale uptick in his heartbeat. <em> Stop it </em> , <em> stop getting louder </em>, he thinks, frowning. Focus. He raises his brow at Chan and Changbin who are both making faces at each other in a wordless argument.</p>
<p>Changbin throws his hand up. Chan attends to the bottle again, looking vaguely guilty. “You’ve been glowing for the past few weeks,” Changbin says, looking Jisung right in the eye. “And from the things you’ve told us, it seems like Minho is smitten too.”</p>
<p>Jisung pokes at his omelette. “He’s just being friendly. Remember what happened last time?” He cringes and stabs his omelette to get rid of the flickering reel of images.</p>
<p>“You were drunk. That doesn’t invalidate your present feelings. I think you should go for it.” Chan shakes the bottle. “What the hell is wrong with this?”</p>
<p>“That’s what happens when you buy shitty, off brand stuff because it was on sale,” Changbin says. His eyes are still on Jisung and this time he raises a brow.</p>
<p>Jisung sighs, fiddles with his chopsticks. “I don’t know. I mean -” he shakes his head. His skin feels tight like it is trying to delay the seepage of this argument into his body and into his mind. “I know what you all think, but I don’t want a repeat of that,” his voice cracks, “I just want for this holiday to go by smoothly.”</p>
<p>There is silence. Jisung can hear the traffic from the street, the impatient honks of office workers wanting to reach home. Pale sunlight finds its way past the gathering clouds, its light taking the shape of the square window frames as it spills into the kitchen.</p>
<p>“Can we go out later and get proper dinner?” Chan asks, breaking the silence. “This is, sorry to say, absolute shit.”</p>
<p>Jisung nods, relief walloping his chest. “Also can we just eat dinners at a normal time instead of doing this early dinner thing?”</p>
<p>Changbin shakes his head, disgusted. “Early, healthy dinners are beneficial. Also, it hasn’t even been a day yet and we’re only trying it out twice a week-”</p>
<p>“You’re outvoted,” Chan informs him. “Jisung and I demand proper foods at proper times.”</p>
<p>“I’m bullied mercilessly,” Changbin complains and splutters when Jisung throws a bit of omelette at him.</p>
<p>Jisung laughs.</p>
<p>───────</p>
<p>
  <b>Part I</b>
</p>
<p>
  <b>section i: cornerstone</b>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <b> <em>Excerpt: Untitled Journal Entry</em> </b>
</p>
<p>The stars that we look at are probably already dead. What we observe in the night sky is their light travelling billions of miles to be seen by us. In a way, the stars we so admire are already in the past while we stargaze in the present moment. The past intertwines with the present.</p>
<p>From their spots in the sky, as their light pulses through space, the dead stars look at us, wondering if this speck of a human being marvels at their former glory. They are looking at us even as we are looking at them.</p>
<p>I wonder if just like the stars, a part of us, a part of our soul from our past looks upon us in our present and marvels at how things have changed, how much better they are.</p>
<p>I hope it does because I always seem to look back at my memories, at my past, and marvel at their beauty, at all the light they held. </p>
<p>───────</p>
<p>
  <b> <em>Year One: Semester I and II</em> </b>
</p>
<p>Jisung has come to a conclusion that he is going to graduate from college without any friends. Also, that movies and books about college life are only vaguely accurate. </p>
<p>He stares at his laptop and then at his room. His room is still a strange space even though he has lived here for nearly a month now. Sure, there are posters on the wall and clothes strewn around. He has even put up his stars on the ceiling, something that is a source of bemusement for his roommate. All signs of life are here. But they are all out of place, just like Jisung. They’re uncanny, even; it is unsettling to see his plushies and books in an unfamiliar, discomforting room.</p>
<p>And there’s no group he belongs to either. He has a couple of acquaintances, but he can’t envision them becoming friends. He knows that he is just filling a gap in their group till they find their perfect friend. They’ve gone on a few outings without informing him, and Jisung understands what it means. There’s a stab of humiliation when he recalls how he ran around trying to find his ‘friends’ only to stumble upon them thirty minutes later. They said they had been looking for him, but Jisung doubts that.</p>
<p>He huffs loudly to dispel the memory and put his laptop away. He stands and stretches, checks his watch. It is nearly dinner time. He then checks his messages, finds that his dad has texted him asking about his plans for the evening. He replies that he is leaving his unfriendly room to have a lonesome meal.</p>
<p>He switches on his ‘sad life, sad, sad’ playlist and shuffles slowly down the corridor, staring at every closed door, wondering if someone behind a door will be his friend one day. </p>
<p>Let no one ever think that he isn’t dramatic.</p>
<p>───────</p>
<p>
  <b> <em>Excerpt: Untitled Journal Entry</em> </b>
</p>
<p>How is it possible to ‘be’, to exist and yet not be seen? How can I walk past a place teeming with people, brush against them, and still remain unseen? It’s so strange to think that people who are flesh and bones, made of matter and mattering to some, are made invisible just because people refuse to look or decide to look but look past them.</p>
<p>What’s also strange is that ‘look past’ has both a positive and negative connotation. Positive: to look beyond appearances to see what a person is like on the inside. Negative: to look past their bodies and their minds and close your eyes deliberately to their existence.</p>
<p>Do you matter when people don’t see you; when they don’t know you or know of you? Yes, you’re taking space because you’re made of matter, but there has to be something beyond this simple existence, right? They say you have two deaths and your final death happens when you’re forgotten and your name is not spoken</p>
<p>───────</p>
<p>Jisung’s assigned partner is named Lee Minho, and from what Jisung remembers, there are two people named Lee Minho in this class. He doesn’t know either one of them and people are already pairing up in a whirl of shouted names and clatter of shoes. Jisung doesn’t shout and he doesn’t know how to manoeuvre this roiling crowd. His classmate’s chatter swells and crests all around him.</p>
<p>“Has everyone found their partners?” the professor calls out, after clapping to gain the class’s attention. The professor claps again, louder when the noise continues unabated. There’s an abrupt hush broken only by a stifled giggle. “Have you all found your partners?” he repeats.</p>
<p>The yeses are louder than the noes. Jisung is going to cry.</p>
<p>“Alright, those of you who haven’t found your partners, step out a little, call out their names. Raise your hands if you’re the missing partner. Let’s get it done quickly, we’ve already wasted enough time,” he shakes his head.</p>
<p>Jisung crosses his arms, drives the nail of his thumb into the tip of his index finger. His throat is aching and he wants to punch himself. There is no reason to cry over something so small, but he can’t control the tightness in his chest and the heat on his face. He watches people call out the names of their partners, detect the raised hand and drag themselves to a seat. They are taking turns in an order that Jisung is unaware of, so he decides to call out after the girl who is staring at the group with dejection.</p>
<p>“Not here, probably,” one person says and she nods and steps aside.</p>
<p>“Lee -”</p>
<p>“Wang-”</p>
<p>Jisung pauses, looks at the guy who spoke at the same time as him. There are scattered titters. Jisung’s eyes burn. The guy waves his hand in a ‘go ahead’ gesture. “Lee Minho,” Jisung calls, his voice thin. He looks at the group of people who haven’t found their partners, but they look at him blankly. He sees a hand waving from the corner of his eyes. His partner is sitting on a bench towards the middle of the class.</p>
<p>He walks towards him, blinking rapidly to clear his eyes. Lee Minho is obviously a senior. He is wearing a faded college hoodie and has a general air of lassitude about him. He has that look of ‘done-ness’ that all college seniors invariably seem to have.</p>
<p>“Hi,” he mumbles, slipping into the seat next to Minho. Up ahead, the professor is pairing up the people whose partners are absent with each other. “I’m Jisung.”</p>
<p>Minho looks at him, and Jisung is struck by the evenness of his features. He is really good looking and Jisung had definitely not expected to get such a pretty partner. His skin prickles and he drops his gaze. “I’m Jisung,” he says again without thinking and his cheeks burn when he realises that he has repeated himself.</p>
<p>“You passed by me thrice without asking my name,” Minho informs him, tapping his pencil on the desk. He has an odd way of blinking, Jisung notices. He blinks as if he is forcing his eyelids to close and open. Also, he has really thick lashes, and he’s just… very handsome. </p>
<p>“Oh,” Jisung says. He had been so frazzled that he hadn’t really noticed anything. Even someone like Minho. “Must’ve missed you,” he says.</p>
<p>Minho nods, turns away much to Jisung’s relief. Not that his side profile is any less gorgeous. Jisung pokes his cheek, self conscious. He drops his hand and then his gaze to his fingers. </p>
<p>The professor claps his hands again, dragging Jisung’s attention back and saving him from having to fill the silence. This is an English elective class for intermediate speakers and it is an easy one. That’s why there are so many seniors: it’s a simple way to get credits and is not too hectic. Jisung has chosen to take it in his first year itself because he doesn’t want to overwhelm himself by being too ambitious.</p>
<p>The assignment for the day is a speaking exercise. The professor gives them instructions: all they have to do is converse with their partners and get to know them, write a summary, submit it. It’s an easy one but Jisung is not particularly in the mood for speaking exercises, especially when it's just the second class. </p>
<p>Minho turns to him the moment the professor asks them to start. “You know, it would be easier to just write a summary about ourselves and then send it to each other so that we can submit it.”</p>
<p>Jisung is not expecting this. He is not the most honest student, and yes, he doesn't like this exercise much, but he has never outright cheated like this either. He wets his lips, unsure of how to disagree with an intimidating senior. “Um,” he says, “you don’t want to do the exercise?”</p>
<p>Minho studies him. Jisung squirms and picks at a fraying thread on the knee of his jeans. He wishes he had cut class and stayed buried in his blankets. “I want to,” Minho says, “but you look like you are going to burst into tears.”</p>
<p>It’s an accurate observation, but he bristles anyway. He sits up straight and puffs out his chest. “I’m fine. I don’t want to cheat,” he barks and realises that he sounds too accusing. He can hear his bravado leave him in a whoosh when Minho raises a brow, but he still glares at Minho.</p>
<p>“Alright then, let’s get to work,” Minho says with a tight lipped smile and Jisung catches the annoyed glint in his eyes.</p>
<p>“Students,” the professor calls, hands folded across his chest. “This is the first conversation that many of you are having with your partners. Sit face to face and show some human spirit, for god’s sake!”</p>
<p>There’s a resounding groan, and Jisung again thinks, that he should’ve cut class. Why does he have to be such a nerd?</p>
<p>“No! Face to face,” the professor says, “come on, now.”</p>
<p>Minho gets up, walks to the seat in front of them, and sits backwards on it. Jisung immediately drops his eyes, the sudden eye contact overwhelming him. Minho doesn’t seem to notice, however, he’s that focused on rummaging through his bag.</p>
<p>“What’s your major?” he asks, opening his laptop.</p>
<p>Jisung sighs internally and answers Minho’s question.</p>
<p>───────</p>
<p><b>Dad</b>: How was class…?</p>
<p><b>Jisung</b>: was fine dad</p>
<p><b>Jisung</b>: i am kinda tired, going to sleep 😪</p>
<p><b>Dad</b>: Ok…</p>
<p>───────</p>
<p>He decides to go to the astronomy club event because he’s interested in it. The fact that the senior handing out fliers is really attractive does not factor into the equation at all. Not even a little. Jisung likes space and stars and stuff and he’ll get to meet people there. That’s all.</p>
<p>He regrets it the moment the meeting starts, however. Turns out the event is an academic discussion about some recent finding. Jisung, whose knowledge about space is limited to relentless and poorly informed romanticism about the stars; an obsession with parallel universes, and the fluorescent stars on his ceiling, loses interest before the third slide is changed.</p>
<p>He casts a longing look at the door that is being manned by two eagle eyed and stone faced seniors. The room is tiny and dark with only the pale light of the projector grudgingly offering some illumination. Hot senior drones on, throws questions, praises the ones who answer. Jisung wishes his life consisted of something other than waiting for things to be over.</p>
<p>He stifles a yawn and adjusts his position so that he is more comfortable. Just then, there’s a movement at his periphery. He looks around at the smattering of people and notices a boy in the row beside him staring at him. Jisung pauses, unsure of what to do.</p>
<p>“What the hell,” the boy mouths, gesturing towards the senior and his presentation.</p>
<p>For a moment he doesn’t understand what is happening. The boy leans forward and damn, his face is magnificent. What’s it with him stumbling into pretty people everywhere? The boy pretends to slash his throat with a finger. Jisung’s brain kicks into gear and a tendril of hope flickers in his stomach. He squashes it in favour of being cool. He shakes his head, “I know.”</p>
<p>The boy makes a shooing motion with his hand. Jisung blinks before he realises that he’s asking him to move. Jisung shifts to the side, dragging his things along with him. In a smooth flurry of movements, the boy collects his stuff and slides into Jisung’s bench and proceeds to stare at the hot senior. Jisung is left looking at him, a bit miffed by this entire production.</p>
<p>The boy scribbles something and then pushes the book towards Jisung. <em> Hi. I’m Hyunjin </em> , the boy has written, <em> and I want to disappear right now </em>.</p>
<p>Jisung grins. He doesn’t know why, but he has a good feeling about this Hyunjin and he’s going to try to keep the conversation going. It just feels like something that he’ll be glad he did at a later time. He starts writing a reply. <em> I feel you. I’m Jisung btw. </em><em>What do you study? </em></p>
<p>───────</p>
<p>Minho really likes weird, horrifying stuff.</p>
<p>“Um,” Jisung says, groping for words, “it’s really something else.”</p>
<p>Minho beams. “I was kind of inspired by the Tell Tale Heart.” He adjusts his headband. “I always liked the idea of body parts reflecting an emotion by itself. An ‘evil eye’, a heart that still beats in terror,” he smiles, “it is interesting and I wanted to explore that.”</p>
<p>“I–”</p>
<p>“Of course, it turned out to be difficult, so I switched to objects, and then my idea got more and more convoluted, but that’s the general idea,” Minho says. He looks pleased and his eyes are twinkling. There’s a hum of people talking around them and the professor walks past their desk, his shoes squeaking with every step.</p>
<p>“So you’re saying...” Jisung says, scrolling through the story, though he read Minho’s story at least five times last night and has nearly memorised it in his attempt to understand it. Jisung pauses to make a mental note. “...that objects have inherent qualities to them? And that some are inherently evil?”</p>
<p>“No,no,” Minho shakes his head. “I mean to say that objects don’t have any inherent meaning. We give them their meanings.” He frowns, tilts his head to the side. “Hmm, how do I put it? Like, an eye is not evil by itself even though the dude in Tell Tale Heart thought so because of his madness.”</p>
<p>Jisung stares at Minho. He looks really good in a headband; it fits his features well. Jisung himself is shy of wearing headbands because they expose his features too much. “I’m going to be honest, hyung,” he dispels his thoughts, turning to the task at hand. Giving feedback. “I don’t understand it at all. Why does the guy keep dreaming about potatoes? Why does he rush to a farm in the end? I read it five times and though I get your thought process now, it doesn’t come across in the story, you know.” He tugs at the knot of his hoodie.</p>
<p>Minho blinks, presses his lips together. “It is surrealism,” he says.</p>
<p>“Hyung,” Jisung says, “you can’t just use surrealism as an excuse for things that don’t make sense. That’s not how it works!”</p>
<p>“It is surrealism if I say so,” Minho folds his arm and glowers at Jisung.</p>
<p>Shit.</p>
<p>“Um,” Jisung stomach churns, “I mean it’s great that you wanted to explore surrealism, but – I don’t think it <em> qualifies </em> as surrealism and I didn’t want to disrespect you or anything, but it’s just the professor told us–” he breaks off and groans when he notices the mischievous smile that Minho is failing at holding back. “Hyung!”</p>
<p>Minho throws his head back in laughter. Jisung glares at him until he stops laughing. “You looked so scared,” Minho wheezes and breaks into giggles again.</p>
<p>“You looked really mad,” Jisung grumbles, glancing away from Minho’s gummy smile. There’s a sharp pull in his stomach.</p>
<p>Minho pats his shoulder. “There, there, stop pouting,” he says. His smile broadens when Jisung huffs. “I was just teasing.”</p>
<p>Jisung shakes his head. “You suck,” he says, emphatically.</p>
<p>Minho looks proud.</p>
<p>───────</p>
<p>“Water,” Minho says, “you’ve focused a lot on the purifying quality of water, I like it.”</p>
<p>Jisung jiggles his knee in time with the tap of his pencil on the desk. “Yeah, but more like… how it causes change, you know? Like I wanted to show how water is the thing that… well I suppose you can say it is purifying because N is a dick after all.”</p>
<p>“I can’t believe you just named your character N,” Minho shakes his head.</p>
<p>Jisung grins. “I suck at naming my characters.” He taps the pencil again. “You don’t think the symbolism is heavy handed?”</p>
<p>Minho tilts his head. “It’s a bit heavy handed, but I like it. You can make it subtler with practice,” he shrugs then smiles “I really like it Jisungie. You have an interesting way of thinking; you know that?”</p>
<p>Jisung flushes, taken aback. He never knows what to say when someone praises him and what he says usually ends up sounding rude. He settles on a simple, “thanks, hyung.” Then he casts about for a topic before this pause can veer to silence. “I have always thought about how yielding and unyielding water is.”</p>
<p>“Hmm?”</p>
<p>“I mean,” Jisung pauses. There he is, running his mouth again. He shakes his head. “Ah, actually it’s nothing. Do you have any more feedback?”</p>
<p>“No tell me,” Minho pokes his arm, “The last class I told you about how the way we give meanings to objects fascinates me, so tell me why water as a symbol fascinates you.”</p>
<p>Though Jisung is always up for impressing people with his fake deep theories and thoughts, this falls into the area of ‘I’m kind of being vulnerable right now.’ Minho’s eyes are warm, however, and his body is turned towards Jisung. Under the laser beam of Minho’s gaze, he hopes that his pimples aren’t too visible.</p>
<p>“It is yielding and unyielding at all the right times,” he says slowly, “unlike me. I yield when I have to resist and I am as stubborn as an ox when I should give in.” He ruffles his hair and his too long bangs fall in disarray. He fixes them. “So yeah.”</p>
<p>“I never thought of it that way,” Minho says, biting his lip.</p>
<p>“Yeah well… I always overthink.”</p>
<p>“It really depends on how you see things, and what you think, and what you do with them, doesn’t it?” Minho goes on dreamily, “how we interact with our world really depends on what meaning we give them.” His gaze turns considering.</p>
<p>Jisung resists the urge to squirm.</p>
<p>“I think we’ll be good friends, Jisungie,” he announces.</p>
<p>───────</p>
<p>
  <b> <em>Excerpt: Memories as a way of knowing?</em> </b>
</p>
<p>Memorising something in order to understand it. If I memorise everything that makes up a person: their tics, their favourites, their likes and dislikes, their memories, their fears, etc. will I be able to understand them better and even completely?</p>
<p>───────</p>
<p>“Do you ever feel homesick?” Hyunjin asks. He has been teetering at the edge of tears for a whole week and Jisung has been politely ignoring it.</p>
<p>Jisung flips a page in his book. “Not really,” he says, “but I went to boarding school until I was thirteen, so I guess I’m used to being away from home.”</p>
<p>Hyunjin sighs, flops onto his side so that he’s facing Jisung, and tucks one hand under his head. “My mom’s birthday is tomorrow and Kkami is sick,” he mumbles into his bicep. “I just want to be back home.”</p>
<p>Back when he first went to boarding school and cried his eyes out due to homesickness, his mom had just said some variation of “Don’t cry” and “You’ll forget all of us soon!”  He doesn’t think Hyunjin will appreciate that. “That sucks,” he says.</p>
<p>“I feel like a baby being all like,” Hyunjin pitches his voice higher, “I wanna go home.” He sighs, flops onto his back. “But I can’t help it.”</p>
<p>Jisung plays with the dog-eared corner of the page he’s reading. “It happens. I mean there’s a lot going on, you’ll obviously want to be there.” He cringes. His words are about as comforting as a brick, but at least he said something.</p>
<p>"I don't think I'm homesick though,” Hyunjin continues as if he hasn't heard what Jisung said, "I like it here. It's just what's happening... "</p>
<p>"Hey, it's alright," Jisung closes his book and leans forward, "home is… well, home and it's just a part of you, I guess."</p>
<p>Hyunjin turns his head towards him. "Yeah," he smiles and Jisung can't help but smile back. "But, I make myself sad when I think about how my parent's home will not be my home soon." He sits up again and hunches his shoulders, "I mean, I have to get my own apartment and stuff soon, right? And then I'll be more attached to that than my childhood home."</p>
<p>Jisung squints as he thinks, "I can't actually imagine having a place of my own," he admits, "I know that you're talking about it in terms of like, ownership, but I just realised that I have always lived with someone."</p>
<p>"I always want someone around," Hyunjin rolls onto his back again, "it's nice to have company."</p>
<p>Jisung nods, then hesitates. "Do you want to… go get food?"</p>
<p>Hyunjin hums. “Sure. By the way, Felix said he’s going to bring a friend of his to lunch tomorrow.”</p>
<p>Jisung has become friends with Felix through Hyunjin and now Felix is bringing in another person. He toys with the idea of introducing Minho to his friends for a second. He dismisses it in the next breath. Why would Minho even bother? Jisung recalls seeing Minho once, surrounded by a group of people, sitting in one of the tables on the campus green.</p>
<p>“Sounds cool,” he says.</p>
<p>───────</p>
<p>Though it occurs to Jisung that he doesn’t have to sit with Minho all the time, Minho doesn’t seem to think so. He waves Jisung over to his seat every class, and Jisung always acquiesces. The trek to the middle row is spent in marvelling about the fact that a senior wants to spend time with. It’s not like he’s intimidated or anything. He’s just – awed?</p>
<p>It’s probably the strangeness of moving from school, where people are still grappling with puberty, to college where many have seamlessly wrangled it into order and squeezed the best out of it. Minho has definitely succeeded in squashing teenage angst. Jisung always shudders when he thinks of his high school years and though he can’t say that he has improved all that much, he’s just glad that he has friends now to help him with the angst. </p>
<p>“What’s that smile for?” Minho asks the moment Jisung drops his bag on the desk.</p>
<p>“Nothing,” Jisung’s embarrassed to admit he’s smiling because he thought of his new friends. “It’s been a good couple of weeks.”</p>
<p>Minho cracks his knuckles then his neck. He sweeps his stuff closer to him to make space. “You’re lucky. I am dying a slow death because of my dissertation.”</p>
<p>“You’re always dying because of one thing or another, hyung,” Jisung says, sitting down. “So dramatic.”</p>
<p>“Wait till you get your third year, you’ll see,” Minho says, flicking Jisung’s cheek. “You’re young and full of hope now.”</p>
<p>Jisung thinks about the four assignments that he has to submit and his relentless procrastination. “I think I am just full of stupid right now, actually.”</p>
<p>“There should be <em> some </em> grey matter in here,” Minho pushes Jisung’s head to the side, “your head is pretty big.”</p>
<p>Jisung’s startled by the easy playfulness, the assurance with which Minho extends his friendship. It's like he cannot fathom the friendship not being reciprocated, and yes, Jisung is reciprocating with clumsy, enthusiastic alacrity, but it is still different. Unfamiliar grounds.</p>
<p>“You’ve hurt me,” he throws his head back and wipes a tear from his lash line. “You called me big-headed.”</p>
<p>“It’s okay,” Minho says, smiling into the rim of his water bottle, “it’ll get bigger once your frontal lobe develops.”</p>
<p>Jisung narrows his eyes. “I can’t believe you insulted me twice in the same sentence. Bullying is strictly prohibited here, you know.”</p>
<p>Minho takes a drink of water. Jisung has completely turned towards him during this conversation and thus he has a good view of the tendons on Minho’s neck straining, his jawline sharpening and his Adam’s apple working. Jisung swivels to face the front of the class, face flushing even as his stomach squirms in interest. Attractive is attractive, but he needs to make his staring less obvious. He hears the clink of Minho’s bottle against the wood of the desk.</p>
<p>“It’s just a bit of friendly teasing.” Minho’s voice is different; it has taken a sombre edge. Jisung looks at him. “If I am crossing any boundaries,” Minho’s eyebrows are creased earnestly and his eyes are warm, “please tell me to fuck off, okay? Don’t put up with me.”</p>
<p>Jisung feels threads of – of something wrap around them. It isn’t like when you use gentle probing feelers to find something new, but rather the <em> settling </em>of something new. Something finding its place. “Yes, of course, hyung,” he murmurs. “Same goes for you.”</p>
<p>Minho grins. “Get ready to get eviscerated.”</p>
<p>───────</p>
<p><b>Jisung</b>: i am going out with my friends</p>
<p><b>Jisung</b>: hyunjin, felix, seungmin</p>
<p><b>Dad</b>: I told u to be patient…</p>
<p><b>Jisung</b>: also there’s this hyung who is pretty cool</p>
<p><b>Jisung</b>: his name is minho</p>
<p><b>Dad</b>: good good. come bck wt an army of friends…</p>
<p><b>Jisung</b>: you’re using a smart phone!</p>
<p><b>Jisung</b>: type properly!!! 😤😤</p>
<p><b>Dad</b>: ok…</p>
<p><b>Dad</b>: gd nght…</p>
<p>───────</p>
<p>“Did you miss me so much that you turned up here?” </p>
<p>Jisung squeaks and whips around, nearly falling. Both Seungmin and Minho reach out a hand to steady him. “You scared me!” Jisung snatches his hand away from Minho’s forearm. His cheeks burn when Minho laughs at him.</p>
<p>“He didn’t scare you, you’re just easy to startle,” Seungmin, the traitor, quips. </p>
<p>Jisung nudges his side with an elbow. “And, no, I wasn’t missing you or anything,” Jisung says. “We’re waiting for our friend.”</p>
<p>Minho looks back at the building behind him. “Oh, you’re friends with someone who studies dance? We seniors gave them a welcoming party today,” he shrugs, adjusting his gym bag. “I think we scared them.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, his name is Hyunjin,” Seungmin nods. How he can speak to a stranger with such ease is beyond Jisung. “Our seniors did the same thing and–” he drops his voice, “then told us to find them if we ever want to drink our troubles away.”</p>
<p>Minho laughs and his eyes gleam. “Well, we didn’t because our professors were lurking, but I’ll make sure that Hyunjin knows.”</p>
<p>“This is Seungmin,” Jisung pokes his arm and then waves a hand at Minho, “and that’s Minho hyung. I sit with him in English class.” </p>
<p>Minho staggers back a few steps and clutches his chest. “Is that all I am to you? A hyung who sits next to you in class?” </p>
<p>Jisung squints at him and twists his mouth in mock annoyance. “You know you’re my friend, hyung,” he says even though he had not dared to think of it before this moment. He hopes that the heat pulsing at the top of his ears is not visible. </p>
<p>“You’re only saying this –” </p>
<p>“Hey, Hyunjin,” Seungmin says at the same time.</p>
<p>“Sunbaenim!” Hyunjin bows and then straightens up. “I’ve heard a lot about you.” He pauses. “Um – that you’re a great dancer and nothing else!”</p>
<p>Minho snickers, “That ‘nothing else’ sounds ominous,” he says. “Only the good things are true, okay?”</p>
<p>As Hyunjin nods frantically, a strange confidence suffuses Jisung. Or maybe his last brain cell turns in for the night because he finds himself saying, “why don’t you have lunch with us, hyung?”</p>
<p>Hyunjin who is standing crossways to Jisung, turns to face him and goggles at him. Minho raises a brow, “ah, sorry, Sungie, I have to meet my friends –”</p>
<p>“Yes, yes,” Jisung babbles, “Of course – just asking… makes sense, you should go–”</p>
<p>“But why don’t you guys, join us?” </p>
<p>“What?” Jisung’s brain screeches to a halt. He gapes at Minho, unsure if it’s a weird sort of glitch where his wishful thinking is being echoed by Minho.</p>
<p>Minho is just standing there, the picture of nonchalance with one thumb hooked to the strap of his bag and the other adjusting his glasses. “Yeah, why not? Changbin is growing up too fast, so we would love to have a whole bunch of ducklings to coddle.”</p>
<p>“Is it okay if we call our other friend, too?” Seungmin asks, somehow unbothered by the fact that Minho is asking them to eat with his friends. Jisung is still unable to comprehend it. Seungmin continues talking, “then you’ll have four ducklings.”</p>
<p>“Yeah! Felix is real cute!” Hyunjin says, “perfect dongsaeng material.”</p>
<p>“Perfect,” Minho beams, “so shall we go then?”</p>
<p>───────</p>
<p>Jisung wrinkles his nose when Minho drops into the seat beside him. “Why have you doused yourself with so much perfume?” he demands.</p>
<p>Minho folds his hands on the desk, drops his head on them and pants. “I couldn’t shower – woke up too late.”</p>
<p>“It is still an unnecessary amount of perfume,” he makes a gagging sound, “do you really stink so much after a day of not showering?”</p>
<p>Minho straightens in his seat, and groans. His eyes are bloodshot and his skin is pale. He isn’t wearing makeup, but Jisung notices the remnants of eyeliner on his lids. Minho licks his chapped lips, “I don’t, but I don’t want to smell like I bathed in alcohol, so,” he shrugs, “deal with it.”</p>
<p>“Are you hungover?” Jisung scrabbles to find his bottle of water then remembers that he never carries water. “Do you want a painkiller?” he asks, a bit dubious about his ability to help. “Oh!” he snaps his finger, “do you want me to shut up so that I don’t make your headache worse?”</p>
<p>Minho has a strange, faraway look and his lips are pursed, but the corners turn up in a way that gives away his smile. <em> Light finds the cracks </em>, Jisung thinks for a moment, a long forgotten tune stirring in his memory. He is struck by the way his brain seems to be reassembling all that is familiar about Minho to provide a new picture.</p>
<p>Jisung startles when Minho leans forward and pats under his chin. His fingers are cold and they cradle his chin as Minho says, “It’s alright, Jisungie. I don’t have a hangover.”</p>
<p>“You don’t?” Jisung asks for the sake of saying something. “That’s good.”</p>
<p>Minho withdraws his hand, drops them on his lap. Jisung busies himself with setting up his laptop, opens the document where he takes notes.</p>
<p>“Do you know the secret to getting blindingly drunk and still coming to class the next? Only drinking till you regret the amount you’ve drunk and not till you think you can do anything. And  drinking a lot of water after you’re back home. It’s all about that drinking!”</p>
<p>Jisung frowns, considering. “Except for the water part, nothing makes sense, but I’ll keep it in mind the next time I go out drinking.” In his vast and varied experience when it comes to drinking – he’s been drunk twice – he has realised that he likes drinking because it makes him think that he can do anything.</p>
<p>“We should go drinking once,” Minho tilts his head, “it’ll be great.”</p>
<p>The professor walks in then, diverting Jisung’s attention from the excitement that is sparking in him. The professor asks them to read the short story of the week in silence and to contemplate the meaning of it without discussing it amongst themselves. Minho writes, “he’s probably hungover too,” in the chat section of the notes sheet that Jisung has shared with him.</p>
<p>Jisung snorts and opens the short story on another tab. Sometimes when Jisung is reading, watching or listening, certain ideas or concepts take hold of his imagination and open up a deluge of ideas. He reads the line where the mayfly says, “you may have thousands of my days, but I have thousands of moments in which I can be merry and happy,” and an idea stirs.</p>
<p>He is too distracted to read the rest of the story. A flurry of words swirl and take shape, then dissipate and are brought together by more words. He wishes he had his journal, wishes he could make this feeling – this feeling of his synapses flaring and gears turning and ideas taking shape on their own – indelible by putting it on paper.</p>
<p>He doesn’t have his journal with him, however, so he contends with jotting down the points for his idea. His feelings, however, require the sanctity of his journal.</p>
<p>It can wait.</p>
<p>───────</p>
<p>"What the hell are you eating?" Changbin snatches the box away from Hyunjin and picks up something green and wilted from it with his chopsticks.</p>
<p>Hyunjin grabs for the box but Changbin holds it away. "Hyuuung, I'm hungry."</p>
<p>"Look, I don't like commenting on people's eating habits, but you can't keep buying these pre-made lunch boxes from the canteen."</p>
<p>"You cook for me then," Hyunjin says, lunging forward and snatching his lunch away. </p>
<p>Minho snorts and slaps Changbin's back. "Binnie sets everything on fire. You're better off eating this."</p>
<p>"I can cook for you, Jin, if you want. Like, I can do meal prep and stuff," Felix offers, peeking into the box Hyunjin's holding. His nose wrinkles. </p>
<p>"Thanks, Felix, but I like eating this," Hyunjin clutches the box closer to his chest. "Maybe I like the wilted vegetables, the weird smell and overcooked rice. Have you guys ever thought of that?"</p>
<p>Changbin slowly turns to Chan and shields his mouth. "Hyung, that kid is weird," he says loudly. </p>
<p>"You all are making fun of my food preferences," Hyunjin grumbles, "as if you guys don't eat terrible stuff."</p>
<p>Jisung leans forward and twists his shoulder so that he can speak to Changbin who is sitting next to Minho. “Yeah, hyung. It’s terrible but tasty.”</p>
<p>Hyunjin cheers and Minho rolls his eyes. “I’m reconsidering our friendship.” He slings an arm around Jisung’s shoulder, however, as if to show that he really doesn’t mean it.</p>
<p>And Jisung knows that he doesn’t mean it. Friendship with Minho is easy – friendship with <em> all </em>of them is easy in a way that startles him. It should shock him, perhaps, are things supposed to be so effortless? It seems like a dream that can only lead to a cold awakening. Yet, Jisung can’t be bothered to overthink about it because of the safety that they exude.</p>
<p>“You’re all jealous,” Hyunjin comments, “yeah, they say that the meat is barbecued when it obviously isn’t and yes, the vegetable is nowhere near fresh. But the salt and fat content makes up for it, okay?”</p>
<p>“I want barbecue,” Seungmin announces, “I really, really want barbecue now.”</p>
<p>Chan laughs, “we can go out after classes.”</p>
<p>“Or.” Hyunjin says, a smile splitting his face, “let’s skip classes and go right now.” </p>
<p>Jisung agrees first, eagerness burning in his chest. As he follows the others out of the campus, he decides that this is what a good day looks like.</p>
<p>───────</p>
<p>“The greatest thing that happened to me was the ability to buy alcohol,” Changbin says, studying a bottle. He turns to Jisung, “the first time I bought alcohol, I knew I could do anything.”</p>
<p>Holding a basket filled with snacks, Jisung isn’t sure how to reply to that. “Same, but like you still can? With and without alcohol?”</p>
<p>Changbin laughs. “But it’s more fun with alcohol.”</p>
<p>Jisung accepts his word. That’s how he feels about alcohol anyway.  It’s halfway through the semester, and Chan has arranged a small party to get them all out of the mid-semester blues. Somehow, without him quite knowing how it happened, he’s half done with his first semester and has found drinking buddies to mark the occasion. Three hyungs and three same aged friends.</p>
<p>“Not that I am romanticising drinking or anything,” Changbin adds though he has a loving gleam in his eyes as he considers another bottle. “Don’t become a souse on my account.”</p>
<p>“Seeing you drunk is warning enough,” Jisung says drily, “there’s nothing romantic about you sniffling about your debate club’s loss in the semi-finals.”</p>
<p>“Hey! I was not sniffling, I was sobbing! Give my feelings some respect!”</p>
<p>Jisung snorts and holds out the basket so that Changbin can place both the bottles inside. He glances longingly at the chocolate display, but he can’t afford any of the good ones so he follows Changbin to the produce section where Minho is exercising his duty as an adult and buying vegetables. But what they find is Minho and Felix having an intense discussion over what looks like a carrot.</p>
<p>“I’ve always found the fatter ones to be sweeter,” Minho says, “and the thin ones go spongy really quick. So if you want to buy them as a snack then get the fatter ones.”</p>
<p>“Makes sense, hyung,” Felix beams and shovels a couple of carrots into a paper bag.</p>
<p>“Hyung, stop boring him about vegetables. We have a party to go to,” Changbin says, rolling his eyes. “I’m sure Lix knows how to pick his own vegetables.”</p>
<p>“Your Lix doesn’t know the importance of locally grown produce,” Minho says, throwing an arm around Felix's shoulder. “He was going to buy those hideously expensive foreign fruits for nutrition.”</p>
<p>Felix touches his pulse, face flushing. “I’ll eat carrots from now on,” he says, shaking the bag he is holding.</p>
<p>“You can have some of my snacks,” Changbin offers, waving a hand at the basket Jisung’s holding. “If you get bored of your carrots.”</p>
<p>“Sounds dirty,” Jisung whispers loudly to Minho.</p>
<p>No one laughs. Minho puts back the carrot he’s holding, and the three of them start walking away. “Hey, it was a joke! Laugh, dammit!”</p>
<p>They walk faster. </p>
<p>───────</p>
<p>“Where are they?” Chan asks even though he is staring right at the huddled mass at the entrance of the outdoor basketball court. “It’s cold.”</p>
<p>“Hyunjin says, ‘fucking dumbass Choi Jimin got the wrong pendrive,’” Jisung reads out from his phone. “Oh, he also says that he wants to become an earthworm because his class is sucking out his bones, blood, muscle and,” he squints, “my fucking life force, man.”</p>
<p>Chan blinks, pulls the sleeve of his sweater to cover his fingers. “There’s a reason flash mobs fell out of fashion,” he says, “they’re a nightmare.”</p>
<p>“Is it even a flash mob if they announce it to everyone?” Seungmin asks, bare hands wrapped around a cup of coffee. He worries his bottom lip between his teeth, “I think they’re fighting.”</p>
<p>Jisung cranes his neck to see. He hears raised voices, but a cold breeze blows then, scattering leaves from the trees and their words around the court. It is mesmerising, the way the red and gold leaves twirl in the air before gently laying themselves on the ground. They yield so readily to nature.</p>
<p>Minho, who is sitting on the row below Jisung, pushes his back against Jisung’s knees. Jisung looks down at the back of his head, and notices that his ears are bright red. “Do you want my beanie, hyung?” he whispers.</p>
<p>Minho cranes his neck to look up at Jisung. “No,” his mouth quivers with a smile, “I just feel sorry for Hyunjin. This shit was a nightmare for me too when I was in first year.”</p>
<p>Felix sits up, his neck straining towards the dancers. “Ooh, someone’s coming.”</p>
<p>A boy marches to the centre of the court and says something. The wind whips away his words. “I am going to die of embarrassment,” Changbin mumbles. “This is worse than your class’s performance, Minho hyung.”</p>
<p>“We only had fainters and not an outright civil war,” Minho says, squirming back against Jisung’s knees again. Jisung widens his knees so that Minho can settle more comfortably in the space between them.</p>
<p>“I think he’s saying that they’re having technical issues,” Seungmin says. He sips his coffee, “that’s what everyone always says.”</p>
<p>A girl detaches herself from the mass and runs over to the boy making the announcement. “Should’ve known better than to befriend another dance dude,” Chan says. “You should’ve just left Jisungie to his own fate, Minho.”</p>
<p>The boy and the girl start whispering, heads bent together. Someone catcalls. A few others boo at the catcallers. Minho turns his shoulder and smacks Chan’s knee, “You’re the one who got attached the moment you saw them.”</p>
<p>Music blares and then cuts off abruptly. “They’re starting, I think,” Felix says. “Oh, Hyunjin said ‘fucking finally.’”</p>
<p>“I hate performing arts majors,” Changbin says, and before anyone can speak, he says, “yes, I hate myself too.”</p>
<p>Satisfied, they settle back to watch Hyunjin’s class’s performance.</p>
<p>───────</p>
<p>As winter sets in, Jisung’s companions to early morning classes are the gloom preceding late sunrises and the nip of chill winds. Jisung nevertheless burrows himself deeply into his clothes and trudges to class because he hates to miss classes.</p>
<p>Like all the other times, Minho is already in class, scribbling something in his notebook, those wireless earbuds in place. The moment Jisung drops down in his seat, Minho pushes a cup towards him, and takes out his ear buds and places them in their case.</p>
<p>“You’ll find eternal peace,” Jisung tells him, wrapping his stiff fingers around the mug.</p>
<p>Minho nods with exaggerated solemnity. “I hope so. I certainly am not at peace right now,” he gives Jisung a pointed look.</p>
<p>Jisung pouts. “All you ever do is make fun of me.”</p>
<p>“Stop being so easy to make fun of then,” Minho says with a smile. “The moment anyone teases you, you just go like…” Minho freezes, drops his jaw and raises his brow as high as possible. “And then you just go off like this,” Minho’s eyebrows dance up and down, up and down, “blah, blah, dishonour on fifteen generations of your ancestors, hyung! I hate you!”</p>
<p>The accuracy of it leads to some tingles. Obviously, they are anticipatory tingles for caffeine.  “Whatever,” Jisung grumbles and sips the coffee, sighing at the pleasant heat. The finest beverages always warm you up on the inside. Example: coffee, soups, gin. <em> Minho notices you </em> , another voice whispers in his head, drowning his musings. He squashes the voice with sarcasm, <em> a huge feat to have achieved near the end of the semester </em>. </p>
<p>Unbidden, he recalls the utter shit that he had written before he had made friends. <em> Do you matter when no one sees you? Everyone is made of matter, not everyone matters. Rendered invisible. </em>He grimaces into his coffee.</p>
<p>“There are no truths or lies,” the professor says, half an hour into the class, “only interpretations of veracity and falsity.” He is puffed up and his forehead gleams as the bright light from the overhead tube light hits him. “As long as you back what you’re saying with evidence, I’ll give you points,” he continues. Jisung pities the fact that only the professor seems to be excited about the debate.</p>
<p>“What if there’s no evidence, but I <em> believe </em>that something is true?” Jisung whispers to Minho. It’s not a team debate; everyone has to fend for themselves.</p>
<p>“Then it’s true for you, but not for anyone else,” Minho tells him. His eyes flicker to the space behind Jisung and he blanches.</p>
<p>Jisung stiffens when he feels the presence of the professor behind him. He swivels his head to his laptop, squint hard at the blinking cursor, types a random word that is vaguely literary. He relaxes when he hears the squeak of the professor’s shoes as he moves away.</p>
<p>───────</p>
<p>Minho drops the plastic bag on the table with a thump. Jisung startles, his back cracking when he sits straight too fast. He pouts at the others when they laugh.</p>
<p>“Why?” he whines, rubbing his back. He coughs into his tissue and groans. “You aggravated my cold.”</p>
<p>“You’re aggravating me,” Seungmin grumbles. Even with his watery eyes and red tipped nose, he manages to look menacing.</p>
<p>“I didn’t give you the cold, I swear!” He swats Changbin’s hip. “It was him.”</p>
<p>“You’re all idiots,” Minho says, undoing the knot on the bag with deft fingers. “I can’t believe you all think chugging cough syrup straight from the bottle is going to help you.” He gives Jisung a pointed look.</p>
<p>Jisung blushes and slowly pushes the bottle towards Seungmin. Seungmin snatches it and thumps Jisung on his shoulder with it. “You have zero accountability,” he says with a threatening wave of the bottle.</p>
<p>“He’s bullying a sick person,” Jisung complains, huddling into his coat. It falls on deaf ears because Hyunjin is listening to music as he pats Changbin, who has his head on Hyunjin’s lap. Chan and Felix are engrossed in a debate, and Seungmin is hacking into his elbow.</p>
<p>Minho pushes a flask of soup towards Jisung. “Poor you,” he tuts with a smile, “here eat your soup so that you can get better and beat Seungmin up.”</p>
<p>Never to be outdone, Seungmin protests, “Hey!”</p>
<p>“Here, Seung - ah,” Minho passes a sealed box to Seungmin, “yours is spicier so that it can fuel your anger.”</p>
<p>Chan shakes his head. “Are you creating a fighting ring or something? They’re babies, Minho.”</p>
<p>Minho hums, and cradles his chin in the space between his thumb and forefinger. Before he can reply, Felix chimes in, “I will pay to watch Seungmin and Jisung fight. They both have that ‘secretly feral’ energy.”</p>
<p>“Yeah,” Minho’s lips are twitching with amusement, “imagine the <em> drama </em>.”</p>
<p>“Where’s my soup?” Changbin says, voice rough. The hair on the back of his head is ruffled and he sniffles. He looks with longing at the soup Seungmin’s holding.</p>
<p>“I didn’t get you any,” Minho says even as he takes out another container, “I refuse to fall for your puppy dog eyes.”</p>
<p>“If I fight Jisung,” Seungmin says, licking his spoon, “then I’ll obviously win because Jisung is like an overenthusiastic puppy. He’ll just flop around, so it’ll be easy to take him out.” He punctuates his claim with two sneezes.</p>
<p>Jisung squawks, but Hyunjin interrupts him. “Jisung and Seungmin are boring. You know who should fight? Chan hyung and Minho hyung. Two different types of intense hyungs fighting each other? Now, that’s worth watching.” He plugs his ear buds back.</p>
<p>Felix looks thoughtful. “I think when it comes down to it, Chan hyung has more feral energy than Minho hyung.” He gives Chan an appraising look. “I think you have potential.”</p>
<p>“Agreed,” Changbin croaks.</p>
<p>“I knew that I was going easy on all of you,” Minho’s voice rises, “the <em> betrayal– </em>”</p>
<p>Jisung tunes the argument out, too exhausted to voice his strong opinions. Seungmin is staring at his empty container, deeply saddened. Jisung pushes his flask with the last mouthfuls of soup to him. Maybe this is how they got colds in the first place, through incessant food sharing.</p>
<p>Jisung folds his arms on the table and rests his head on them. The campus green is filling with people as lunch hour approaches. Sharp bursts of laughter along with the din of a large crowd of lunch-goers somehow makes him sleepy, lulls him into the soft static state that precedes sleep. Jisung listens to Minho defend himself as Felix and Chan heckle him. Changbin is cuddled against Hyunjin’s side now, and Seungmin is measuring out cough syrup.</p>
<p>A sense of rightness blankets him, tucks its corners around his frame. He doesn’t have to be anywhere else because this is where he is supposed to be. He smiles into the crook of his elbow and then coughs. After his cough subsides, he lets the peculiar warmth of this moment sink into him, settle right beneath his ribs.</p>
<p><em> This</em>, he thinks, <em> is everything that I ever wanted. </em></p>
<p>───────</p>
<p>“I am nervous,” Jisung sighs. “I am so nervous.”</p>
<p>“It’s just a date,” Seungmin says, not looking up from his laptop. “A first date. There’s no pressure. Just go see if you like him or not.”</p>
<p>Hyunjin flips through Jisung’s textbook. “Yeah, like, you’ve been making eyes at him since the second semester started.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, Jisung. It’s been a whole three weeks, marry him already,” Seungmin says, offering a high five to Hyunjin.</p>
<p>“I hate both of you,” Jisung informs them. “Only Felix is my friend.”</p>
<p>Felix yawns and cracks his neck. “Felix is tired of listening to you go on and on about Jaeho and his dark, dark eyes.” </p>
<p>“Well, <em> I </em>am not tired,” Jisung pokes Felix’s shoulder. “Anyway, what if he asks me for opinions, and I say something absolutely stupid?”</p>
<p>Hyunjin flicks an eraser at him. “Anyone who asks for your opinion is the stupid one.”</p>
<p>“I am surrounded by enemies,” Jisung complains, crossing his arms. “When you have friends like these why do you need enemies?”</p>
<p>Seungmin gives him a flat look. “Your enemies will be nicer to you because they don’t have the misfortune of being close to you.”</p>
<p>Jisung gives him a simpering smile. “My tiny bed is always available for you, Minnie. You can have all the closeness you want.”</p>
<p>“I am leaving,” Hyunjin grumbles, “I thought we were going to study and not flirt with each other.”</p>
<p>“This is a study session on how to flirt because all of you are losers,” Jisung says, “the nerve of you all to make fun of me when I am the one who got Jaeho hyung’s number.”</p>
<p>“I hate Jaeho hyung and I have never even met him,” Felix groans, slamming his face on the book.”</p>
<p>“I have and he’s so pretty that–” Jisung says and smiles when the three of them groan.</p>
<p>───────</p>
<p>The car is hot and stifling. The AC hums, but the cold air doesn’t reach the corner where Jisung is crammed. He closes his eyes to quell the roiling in his stomach. A car blares its horns as it rushes past, and his head throbs in answer.</p>
<p>“Jisungie, you’re sweating,” Minho murmurs next to him. He shifts closer and his arm presses against Jisung’s, hot and slick. “Are you alright?”</p>
<p>Jisung manages a smile, tries not to grimace at the stench of alcohol on Minho’s breath. “It’s damn hot in the car.”</p>
<p>“It’s a car full of tens,” Chan says from the front seat and laughs. “Get it?”</p>
<p>Minho rustles up a tissue from somewhere. Was it in his pockets? Do his skin tight jeans even have pockets? There hadn’t been any unwanted lines. Minho dabs his forehead. “Just a little more time, Jisungie. We’ll reach the club soon.”</p>
<p>“You’re the best, hyung,” Jisung says, eyes caught on the glimmer on Minho’s cheeks. “I’m sweating my makeup away,” he whines.</p>
<p>Minho studies the tissue. “Yes, but only a little.”</p>
<p>“I told you to borrow mine,” Hyunjin slurs, “yours is shit.”</p>
<p>Jisung thinks that Minho shouldn’t be allowed to fill in his brows. They look magnificent. His stomach clenches, and he sucks in a sharp breath. “Maybe I drank a little too much.”</p>
<p>Chan turns to face Jisung again and offers him a comforting smile. “We’re almost there. And don’t worry about your makeup. You look fine.”</p>
<p>Jisung leans back. His top sticks to him in that peculiar, rough way that all synthetic materials do. If he shifts, his armpit squeaks because of the sweat. Ugh. “I hate party wear. It’s demonization.”</p>
<p>“What demon?” Hyunjin asks.</p>
<p>“I think he’s talking about the cheap whisky,” Chan says.</p>
<p>“I think we should pray that we get there faster because he looks ready to vomit,” Minho says.</p>
<p>A pause.</p>
<p>“Can you roll down the window please, sir?” Chan says.</p>
<p>Cold, smoky air slaps his face a moment later. Jisung breathes in the smell of exhaust fumes and surprisingly feels better. “Air,” he sighs. “All I want is air.”</p>
<p>“Yes,” Minho says, “just hold on, okay? And if you feel worse tell hyung.”</p>
<p>“Okay,” he says, “Hyung will help me.”</p>
<p>“Yes, I will.”</p>
<p>Jisung stares unseeingly at the traffic. Minho’s arm burns against his and he leans into it.</p>
<p>───────</p>
<p>“I don’t know what to make of Jaeho hyung,” Jisung says, winding across knots of people. He glares at all of them. “Anyone would think standing in the middle of the road is dumb,” he grumbles.</p>
<p>“It’s the business department,” Minho says behind him, “what do you expect?”</p>
<p>“True,” Jisung says, tightening his grip on Minho’s hand when a horde of people wearing business suits rush past them, “I hate it when they have their fests.”</p>
<p>Minho manages to find a place next to Jisung. “Yeah their competitions are all, ‘how will you help this company be more unethical?’ and ‘create this advertising plan in five seconds and get roasted for fifteen hours.’” He tuts. “How does Seungmin manage?”</p>
<p>“He loves it,” Jisung says with a slow shake of his head. He squeezes Minho’s hand. “He’s been over the moon about this fest.”</p>
<p>Minho grins and his cheeks bunch up. “I can’t wait to see what Seungmin will do to the juniors next year when the fests come around.”</p>
<p>“He already has a book full of ideas,” Jisung shudders, “those kids are in for it.”</p>
<p>“What were you saying about Jaeho?” Minho asks, nudging Jisung to the direction of the campus green with a tug of his hand. He swings their hands in the space between them.</p>
<p>Jisung sighs, drops his gaze. His shoes cover the concrete in a blur of black and white. “He just wants to ‘hang out’. When I ask what is going on–” He flushes.</p>
<p>“He acts like a dick?”</p>
<p>Jisung prickles because Minho sounds like he was expecting it. He clears his throat, “he says he wants some time. Which I understand.” He thinks for a moment. “Maybe I am being too pushy.”</p>
<p>Minho huffs. “How is asking for answers the same as being pushy.” He lets go of Jisung’s hand and sits on the table. He has a challenging look on his face and Jisung finds himself fighting off a sudden smallness.</p>
<p>“Maybe he is the kind of person who takes time,” Jisung says and it annoys him that he sounds so insistent. He pulls out his water bottle, unscrews the top. “I don’t know.”</p>
<p>“It’s been months. If it bothers you then it is an issue,” Minho says. His face is blank, smooth. “Relationships are about communication.”</p>
<p>“I know,” Jisung snaps and regrets it the second Minho looks taken aback. “I know what communication is and I think I just need to give Jaeho more time,” he says, trying to sound even, steady. His neck and shoulders prickle with coldness.</p>
<p>Minho looks at him. Jisung fumbles with his bottle and takes a sip of water to escape eye contact. When he lowers the bottle, Minho is looking at his phone. “I’m sure you’ll work it out,” he says. “Now what did you want help with?”</p>
<p>“Um…” Jisung is off kilter. The sudden change in topic is confusing and it is unsettling when paired with the way Minho has quietened. He is still and even his odd blinking thing is muted. Only a breeze ruffles his hair.</p>
<p>“With, uh – factorial experiments,” he mumbles, unsure of what to say. “I created a factorial experiment, can you just look through it?”</p>
<p>Minho holds out his hand in a wordless gesture. Jisung puts away his bottle to take out his laptop.</p>
<p>He remains silent.</p>
<p>───────</p>
<p><b>Minho</b>: Hey, I am sorry for today</p>
<p><b>Minho</b>: It’s your relationship and I shouldn’t have judged like that. I crossed a limit.</p>
<p><b>Minho</b>: I am sorry, Jisungie</p>
<p><b>Jisung</b>: nooo hyung</p>
<p><b>Jisung</b>: no need for sorry, i understand you were looking out for me</p>
<p><b>Jisung</b>: i am not mad at all</p>
<p><b>Minho</b>: Thanks Sungie. This won’t happen again ❤</p>
<p>───────</p>
<p>“I am pretty sure that was mould,” Jisung says, wrinkling his nose. “It was horrifying.”</p>
<p>Felix bites his lips, pensive. “That was something else,” he says, twisting a tissue around his forefinger. “That <em> was </em>mould, by the way.”</p>
<p>Jisung shudders. “How could you even bear to touch it?” He blinks against the clear light of the afternoon as he exits the building. That building personified dingy. “How can city streets smell better than that building?” he asks, when a garbage truck rumbles past him. “Just how?”</p>
<p>“My budget is making me feel terrible,” Felix says. If he looked pensive in the flickering, sickly yellow light of the building, he looks grey and thunderstruck now. “We don’t deserve squalor just because we’re students, you know.”</p>
<p>Jisung throws an arm around his shoulder as they start walking towards the bus stop. “I know. We’ll find something. We still have to look at the building your botany noona suggested right?”</p>
<p>Felix nods. Jisung lets the silence stretch because he can tell that Felix is preoccupied. The city rumbles around him, sweeping the swell of people in its own rhythm. Jisung watches people hurry back to their offices after lunch, and wonders about the time when he’ll fall into their pattern as well. When he’ll be professionally dressed and quick footed, always in a hurry. Mostly to go home.</p>
<p>The bus stop is empty. Felix sighs and shoves his hands into his pockets. “I’m sorry. I am just tired and…” he shakes his head, “just tired, yeah.”</p>
<p>“I feel you,” Jisung says then grimaces because it sounds limp. “I mean – why are you tired, Lix?”</p>
<p>The bus arrives, horn blaring impatiently. The exhaust sighs in exasperation as Jisung shuffles into the bus. Felix drops his head on Jisung’s shoulder once they are seated. His head bumps against Jisung’s shoulders as the bus rattles around a turn, but he doesn’t seem to mind.</p>
<p>“Everything is just too much right now,” Felix mumbles. “This semester is kicking my ass.”</p>
<p>Jisung doesn’t know what to say. He hums in acknowledgement, and fumbles for soothing words. “All my classes are making me feel stupid,” Felix continues, “and I am tired of feeling this way.”</p>
<p>“You’re not stupid,” Jisung says, sharp and immediate because he’s not going to let Felix walk around calling himself stupid. “Just because something makes you feel that way; it doesn’t mean you’re that.”</p>
<p>“I should’ve dropped the courses when I had time, but now I’ll just have to grind through them.” Felix rubs his eyes, “And figuring out our living situation for next year and Chan hyung leaving is just...”</p>
<p>“We’ll figure it out,” Jisung pets Felix’s hair, “give it some time. Things will make sense.”</p>
<p>“I hope so.” He burrows closer to Jisung. </p>
<p>As the bus winds its way through the city to take them to their destination, Jisung thinks of how the bus itself doesn’t stay at one place for too long, how it doesn’t really have a place to call its own. <em> We’re like that too </em> , he thinks, <em> constantly displacing ourselves. </em></p>
<p>He winds his fingers with Felix’s warm ones, presses his cheek to his hair. “We – all of us are here with you,” he says softly, “we’ll help you figure it out.”</p>
<p>Felix remains silent. A moment later, he squeezes Jisung’s fingers.</p>
<p>───────</p>
<p>“I don’t see the thing you have with Jaeho going anywhere,” Hyunjin says. “Have you met him recently?”</p>
<p>Jisung stops mouthing the words of a song that’s playing in the café. He digs his thumb into his forefinger and drops his head. “Please don’t.”</p>
<p>“It’s kind of strange though, Jisung. The semester’s nearly ending and you guys are just-” Felix wriggles his fingers, “fluttering around the issue.”</p>
<p><em> Fucking around the issue, more like </em>, Jisung thinks, sourness burning in the back of his tongue. “I don’t know,” he says, sweeping his thumb in circles around the pad of his index finger, “I don’t know what the fuck is happening.”</p>
<p>“Okay,” Hyunjin says, face creasing in sympathy, “I am just saying because there are better people out there than him.”</p>
<p>“Yes,” Felix nods, hair flopping over his brows. “There are plenty of people out there. People who would want a relationship with you and not just hookups.” He leans back against his chair, “not that there’s anything wrong with that, but you want a relationship, right?”</p>
<p>Jisung flushes. “Please, let’s not talk about sex,” he says and squawks when Seungmin slams a tray on the table. “Asshole!”</p>
<p>“Sorry,” Seungmin says, slipping into the seat beside Jisung, “it’s heavy,” he says as he hands out their drinks. “Why do we need so many large drinks?”</p>
<p>“Yeah well, we need all the coffee possible so that Felix can submit his assignment tonight,” Hyunjin says as he uses a spoon to gather the whipped cream on top of the drink.</p>
<p>“Is his assignment about sex?” Seungmin laughs.</p>
<p>“Felix,” Jisung says, pointing at him, “has a submission tonight. And sadly, it is not about my love life.”</p>
<p>Hyunjin takes another spoonful of whipped cream. “You’re boring.”</p>
<p>“Your dance routine is boring,” Jisung says and ducks when Hyunjin throws a sugar packet at him.</p>
<p>Seungmin opens his laptop. “You lot are the most boring people I’ve ever met. I suffer every day.”</p>
<p>“Seungmin, you do <em> accounts</em>,” Jisung says, “that’s the most moring,” he shakes his head with a laugh, “the most boring thing ever.”</p>
<p>“Only boring people argue about what is boring,” Felix says, grinning over the screen of his laptop, “that means I am the only person here. It is difficult being outnumbered, but I’ll manage.”</p>
<p>Jisung grins. “You talk like that’s an achievement. It’s not.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, it’s like, the anti-thesis of an achievement,” Seungmin says.</p>
<p>“Don’t be so self congratulatory, Felix,” Hyunjin brandishes his spoon, “is this how we raised you?”</p>
<p>Jisung laughs when Felix whines.</p>
<p>───────</p>
<p>
  <b> <em>Excerpt: Untitled Journal Entry</em> </b>
</p>
<p>
  <strike>Sometimes we’re just a leaf in the forest, our movement lost to the multitudes. But, sometimes for a few, we’re like the north star: the brightest among multitudes.</strike>
</p>
<p>Doesn’t even make sense!! Or does it.</p>
<p>───────</p>
<p><b>Jisung</b>: signed lease</p>
<p><b>Jisung</b>: lix says chances of us dying are the least here</p>
<p><b>Dad</b>: Chances are more… with u at the helm…</p>
<p><b>Jisung</b>: please don’t forget that as your progeny, anytime you make fun of me it reflects on you too</p>
<p><b>Dad</b>: Don’t talk back…😣</p>
<p>───────</p>
<p>Changbin shoves his can into the plastic bag. The plastic bag is bulging because of their gluttonous consumption of energy drinks. If Jisung squints enough, he can see a demented cheshire grin somewhere on that bag’s face.</p>
<p>“Felix, how are you even – how are you burning through your book at this rate?” Chan asks, sounding half proud, half scared. “What’s your secret?”</p>
<p>“The desp,” Felix says in English, teeth flashing.</p>
<p>“Do I need to study this?” Changbin pouts at his book. “I think they gave me a brick instead of a book.” He hefts the textbook up and holds it aloft for the others to see.</p>
<p>“Yes, Binnie hyung, you got a brick from the library,” Seungmin says, sarcastic even in the throes of death. He is sitting on the floor, arms thrown over the sofa seat and with his head tipped back.</p>
<p>“If I throw it on your face you’ll change your face.” Changbin pauses, blinks, “what?”</p>
<p>“I agree,” Jisung chimes in, “it’s high time Seungmin changed his face.”</p>
<p>Seungmin raises both his middle fingers. “Someone change my brain. It isn’t working.”</p>
<p>“What brains?” Jisung mumbles and shrieks when Seungmin kicks him.</p>
<p>Hyunjin lumbers into the Chan’s living room, a bottle of water held in his hands. “Hydrate yourselves, you goddamn desert creatures. Energy drinks are not for hydration.”</p>
<p>Jisung runs his hand over the bumps on his forehead. He grabs the bottle from Hyunjin and takes a swig of water. He turns to his right to pass it to Minho, but he is lost in his phone, lips quirked in a smile.</p>
<p>“Hyung?”</p>
<p>Minho looks up, startled. It takes a second for his eyes to focus on the bottle. “Oh. No thanks, Jisungie,” he says holding up his own bottle. “I’ve got mine.”</p>
<p>“Right,” Jisung says. He holds it out and Changbin takes it. Jisung glances at Minho again. He’s grinning at his phone now, book abandoned near his knee.</p>
<p>Chan clears his throat. “Let’s take a break.”</p>
<p>Minho perks up. “Terrace?”</p>
<p>Chan nods and gets to his feet. Jisung stands and shakes his feet that are tingling with pins and needles. Felix puts away his book and grabs Jisung’s hand to stand up. Seungmin drapes himself over Changbin and demands to be dragged upstairs. Jisung trails after Felix, his shoulder bumping with Minho’s as he walks next to him.</p>
<p>It is a weird sensation, climbing the stairs to go to the terrace in the dead of the night while no one’s around. It is lonely even though more than half the doors they pass have lights shining at the bottom. Maybe, it is because of the energy drinks and sleep deprivation, but Jisung thinks that seeking darkness under the sky is aesthetic as heck.</p>
<p>The door to the terrace opens without a noise and Jisung enters, head tipped back to see the stars. He stumbles over his feet and Minho steadies him as he pinwheels his arms to stop his fall. “Careful,” Minho says. In the darkness his face is fuzzy, but his grin is sharp and bright.</p>
<p>“Thanks,” Jisung whispers.</p>
<p>The stars aren’t visible. But the orange tipped glow of cigarettes and the smoky outlines of people in the terraces of tightly clustered buildings are. Beyond the parapet, highrises loom over them, twinkling and grandiose. The oily yellow light preferred by the city corporation makes everything conspicuous. There is never complete darkness in a city just as there is never complete light.</p>
<p>Jisung squints to glimpse the faint glow of stars. It is fainter than the stars on his ceiling.</p>
<p>“Light pollution,” Minho tuts beside him. His head is craned upwards too. “I can barely see the north star.”</p>
<p>Seungmin strolls up to Jisung, jiggling a pack of cigarettes. “Do you want one?”</p>
<p>“No. Where did you even get it?” Jisung asks as Seungmin waves the pack at Minho’s face.</p>
<p>“Girl from Building F threw it over,” Seungmin says, turning and throwing the pack at Felix when Minho refuses as well.</p>
<p>“Did she throw a lighter as well?” Minho asks.</p>
<p>Seungmin snickers, “no and I can’t wait for them to figure it out,” he points towards Felix who is turning around, searching for anyone with a light.</p>
<p>“One day you’ll be killed if you keep tormenting people like this,” Minho says though he’s laughing as well. “I’ve taught you well, haven’t I?”</p>
<p>Seungmin settles on the floor. “You’re dreaming that you’re important. Wake up,” he says and claps his hands. “You’re talking nonsense, hyung.”</p>
<p>Minho kneels down, crawls towards Seungmin and starts pinching him. Jisung sits on the floor and cheers Minho on, delighted that he’s not the one at the receiving end of Minho and Seungmin’s painful brand of affection. The floor is warm beneath his palms – it is nearing summer and it has been unusually hot – and Jisung likes it because it feels like the building is alive.</p>
<p>“I like to think that even as we look at the stars, the stars are looking at us,” Jisung says when Seungmin and Minho call a truce. His eyes are heavy, but he is also thrumming with wakefulness. He’s sinking deep into the strange intimacy of sleep deprivation. “And they–”</p>
<p>Hyunjin yelps and Jisung turns to see what is happening, the moment lost. Changbin is attached to Hyunjin’s back, and Hyunjin is trying to throw him off. Felix and Chan are arguing about something. Changbin falls and starts cackling as Hyunjin storms away.</p>
<p>“And they’re probably laughing at how dumb we are,” Jisung says drily just before Hyunjin crashes into him.</p>
<p>───────</p>
<p>Jisung keeps smiling even though his cheeks hurt. He drops it the moment Hyunjin says, “he’s gone.” It’s a wonder that there’s no crashing noise as his smile falls off his face.</p>
<p>“Thank god,” he huffs, running a hand through his hair. It is greasy and flops with the weight of being unwashed for two weeks. “I don’t know why he insists on everything being <em> fine </em>,” he rolls his eyes. “He’s so self-important.”</p>
<p>“Maybe he thinks you were lying when you said you’re not in love with him,” Hyunjin says over the drone of a hundred students who have just finished their final exams of the year. “He probably wants to know if you’re okay.”</p>
<p>“I’m okay,” Jisung insists even though something like a bruise throbs in his chest, “the moment we decided being friends with benefits was better, I stopped...” he frowns, “I don’t know, hoping or something.” He glowers at a guy who bumps into him. “And like we’re done now, so he can stop being so sanctimonious.” He hitches his bag up. “Let’s stop talking about Jaeho.”.</p>
<p>Hyunjin opens his mouth to say something, but closes it. “There are other people out there,” he begins and pauses again. “You deserve better than Jaeho, you know that right?”</p>
<p>“Yeah.” Jisung scowls as he thinks of the pitying look on Jaeho’s face. “At the very least, I’m not an arrogant prick.”</p>
<p>Hyunjin drapes an arm around Jisung’s shoulder. “Absolutely. Now let's find Seungmin and Felix so that we can go get drunk.”</p>
<p>Jisung scans the crowd for Felix and Seungmin. He sees Seungmin standing near a trash can, and steers Hyunjin towards his direction.</p>
<p>The moment they arrive, Felix drops a bundle of papers into the trash can. “I am done,” he announces to his audience of three with fire in his eyes. “I’m done and I’m never doing this again and I’m ready for a coma.”</p>
<p>“Will you wake up in time for Chan’s hyung’s party?”</p>
<p>“Only time will tell,” Felix says, solemnly.</p>
<p>───────</p>
<p>“I brought us all together, and I shall see all of you off,” Jisung says, leaning forward, forward, chasing the weightlessness he’s feeling and – someone pulls him back by his collar until his shoulders thump against the back of the chair. “Hey!” he complains, twisting his neck hither and tither to see who dared to invade his space.</p>
<p>It’s Changbin. “You were going to fall off, brat,” he says, walking around to the table and plopping down on Seungmin’s lap.</p>
<p>“You are brat,” Jisung wags a finger at him, “A small brat.”</p>
<p>Changbin flips him off which sets Hyunjin off. Jisung winces when his laugh pierces his eardrums. He tries to push Hyunjin off him, but his friend insists on clinging to him and laughing into his ear.</p>
<p><em> Maybe we should stop drinking</em>, the distant, rational part of his brain says, but is extinguished in a second. Jisung enthusiastically throws back his last shot from this round. Where’s the next round?</p>
<p>Minho peers at him over the salt studded rim of his glass. “I think you should cut back a little, Jisungie.” His voice is amused and warm and so familiar that another ball of warmth lodges itself right beside the alcohol induced one in his chest.</p>
<p>“Pretty hyung,” he says, leaning forward to hug Minho. His arms seem to float in the air, heavy and light all at once.</p>
<p>Minho gets up, pushes into the seat beside Jisung and throws his arm over his shoulder. “You really should eat.” He turns till he is facing Jisung. Jisung’s eyes anchor themselves to his lips. Minho pauses, takes a shot. Jisung tears his eyes away from Minho’s throat and he searches for the plate of fries.</p>
<p>“So where were we?” Minho asks.</p>
<p>Chan sticks a forkful of meat into Changbin’s mouth. “Jisung was getting all emo about how he brought us all together,” he supplies.</p>
<p>Jisung yelps when Minho pinches the underside of his arm. He rubs the spot and glares at Minho. Well, he tries to glare, but he gets distracted by the way Minho’s earrings reflect the dim light overhead. “What was that for?” he demands.</p>
<p>Minho flicks his nose with the hand not of Jisung’s shoulder. Jisung gasps and tries to touch his nose, but ends up bashing it with his palm. “Ow,” he complains and flushes when everyone laughs.</p>
<p>“I was the one who brought us all together,” Minho’s voice wobbled with laughter. “Had I not dragged you and your band of brats to our table that day, then we wouldn’t be here.”</p>
<p>“It was funny to see the four of them trailing after Minho like ducklings,” Chan chuckles, “remember how petrified they were?” he says to Changbin.</p>
<p>“That was my last moment of peace and quiet and I didn’t even know it,” Changbin complains. “And what do you mean petrified? They were hellions from the start!”</p>
<p>“They were petrified of respectable hyungs,” Minho says, smoothly, “which obviously doesn’t include you.”</p>
<p>“Hey-” Changbin says when there’s a roar of laughter.</p>
<p>“I suggested the idea to you,” Jisung interrupts loudly. “I said, said I, “hyungie do you want to come with us for lunch?”” Jisung actually doesn’t remember what he said because he had been terrified and about to melt into the ground, but he wants the credit.</p>
<p>His words set off a loud debate about who deserves more credit: Minho or Jisung and it turns vaguely philosophical the more they drink. Intention or action? What is more important?</p>
<p>“I’m saying that Sungie suggested it,” Hyunjin pats Jisung’s head and messes it up in the process. “Would Minho hyung have thought of it himself?”</p>
<p>Minho reaches towards Jisung’s other side and pinches Hyunjin. “I was going to! He beat me to it. But, remember that I was the one who asked you all to–”</p>
<p>“You said ‘sorry, Jisung, I’m having lunch with my friends!’” Hyunjin squeezes right into the corner of the booth to get away from Minho’s hands. “Jisung started it!”</p>
<p><em> I made a split second decision to ask and here I am with all of you, </em> Jisung thinks. <em> Past intertwines with the present. </em></p>
<p>That’s the last thought he has before the last of his coherent thoughts are washed away by sweet, sweet alcohol.</p>
<p>───────</p>
<p>
  <b>
    <em>Excerpt: Untitled Journal Entry</em>
  </b>
</p>
<p>To be cherished and remembered, that is the aim.</p>
<p>───────</p>
<p>
  <b>section ii: falling/splintering</b>
</p>
<p>(Jisung tackles his second year in college)</p>
<p>
  <b> <em>Year Two: Semester III and IV</em> </b>
</p>
<p>“Minho hyung said he has a date,” Felix scrolls through his phone, “and Changbin hyung says he has to go somewhere.” He bites his lips. “It’s just the four of us and Seungmin’s duckling.”</p>
<p>Jisung nods as he flips through a notebook from last semester. It is half empty, so he puts it on the keep pile. “How did Seungmin already find a duckling?” he asks, “I know the business students started earlier but five days is a bit too much, no?”</p>
<p>“They have a mentorship programme,” Felix says as he lowers himself down to the floor. His knees crack. “Seungmin says he’s sweet.”</p>
<p>“I once thought Seungmin was sweet,” Jisung says, crumpling some graph sheets. “Knowing him, I don’t trust his taste.”</p>
<p>“I don’t trust your taste,” Felix counters, “why do you need so many hideous socks?”</p>
<p>“Oh, I dunno, man” Jisung taps his chin, “sometimes my ears get really cold. So I put them on my ears.”</p>
<p>Felix huffs a laugh and elbows Jisung in the ribs. “Just finish unpacking soon. It’ll be hell once class starts and there will be no time to unpack.”</p>
<p>“Fine,” Jisung sighs.</p>
<p>───────</p>
<p>“Hey, hyung.” Jisung waves at Minho and plops into the seat opposite Minho. There are a couple of people already sitting at their group’s table, laughing about something. Jisung glowers at them mentally.</p>
<p>Minho pushes a cup towards Jisung. “It just hit me again that it’s my last year in college,” he sighs, taps his finger on the table. “I don’t want to think about it, but I can’t stop thinking about it.”</p>
<p>Jisung sips his coffee, thinking about what to say. Minho isn’t one for platitudes and Jisung doesn’t want to say the wrong thing. The silence stretches and the need to say something pushes at Jisung’s throat.</p>
<p>“It’s just…” Minho drags his hands through his hair. The displaced hair reveals a love bite on his neck.  Jisung looks away. “I have to make decisions that I pushed away for so long.” He shakes his head. “My parents won’t say anything; in fact, they’ll be supportive, but it is such a huge risk.”</p>
<p>Jisung reaches a hand forward and places it on top of Minho’s. “Everyone thinks it is a great idea, hyung. You won that innovative idea thing, too,” Jisung squeezes Minho’s hand, “and more importantly I know you’ll make the programme work.”</p>
<p>Minho bites his lip, laces their fingers together. “A dance based programme looks good on paper, but will it work in the real world? Especially if I decide to make it a programme under my family’s charity wing. Then failure will reflect badly in front of the stakeholders.” He winces, “and not to mention the family drama.”</p>
<p>“Striking out on your own is terrifying,” Jisung says. A hush surrounds the table as the other students start leaving. Jisung is alone with Minho in their space; the table strong and sturdy beneath his palm, a witness to all the moments he has shared with his friends. “Hyung, I know that this isn’t really helpful, but whatever you choose, I’ll support you. And I know that whatever path you choose, you’ll be successful. Maybe not immediately, but it is imminent.” He says the last bit in English.</p>
<p>Minho’s smile is a slow curl of his lips, small and sweet. “Not immediate, but imminent,” he repeats. “When did you become a poet, Jisungie?”</p>
<p>Jisung unclasps his fingers from Minho’s and wraps both his hands around the cup. “When I read your potato poem,” he laughs. “That’s when I learned that anyone can be a poet.”</p>
<p>“Hey! Don’t make fun of my potato poems. They’re a tradition since elementary school and with every passing year, they get better,” Minho sniffs.</p>
<p>“Sure, if you say so,” Jisung snorts. He takes a drink of coffee and lets the lush greenery and hum of the campus wash over him. An odd melancholy settles itself on his shoulders. Odd, because it pleases him to feel melancholic. Maybe it is because he has something to feel like this about. “I’ll miss you, hyung,” he whispers.</p>
<p>“I’ll miss you, too,” Minho’s voice drops, mirroring Jisung’s. “I’ll miss the others and the college, and so many more things.”</p>
<p>Everything is centred on the table they are seated at. <em> Our world is this table now</em>, Jisung thinks. He wonders if it is only his consciousness that is entirely focused here, or if Minho is feeling the same.</p>
<p>“I’ll keep you updated about everything, hyung. You can’t get rid of me now. I hope you know that,” Jisung says, taking in the way the breeze ruffles Minho’s hair.</p>
<p>Minho sighs, but it sounds like a breath of laughter. “I suppose I have no choice.”</p>
<p>“Nope.”</p>
<p>───────</p>
<p>“Sometimes I want to bash myself with my laptop,” Jisung groans. He raises his hands above his head and stretches. “I hate college.”</p>
<p>“Keep up, I want to bash myself with my laptop all the time,” Changbin drawls. Jeongin, the duckling, looks worried. He darts a glance at Seungmin.</p>
<p>“Then why don’t you do it, coward!” Minho says, stabbing the air with his chopsticks.</p>
<p>Jeongin makes an alarmed noise. Changbin shakes his head, “I’ll do it after I get my degree. I’ve sunk money into this institution, you know.”</p>
<p>“I’m ready to do it right now if it means I don’t have to submit this today,” Jisung gestures at his laptop, “who even keeps a deadline at 4 P.M.?”</p>
<p>Minho stands up and walks over to Jisung’s side. “Move over, let me see if I can help you.”</p>
<p>Jisung slides away from the end of the seat to give Minho space. “We have to analyse data using a statistical software,” he says as he adjusts the laptop screen so that Minho can see the screen, “the instructions make no sense.”</p>
<p>“Oh?” Minho grins, “I’m good at it! Here, let me see the question.”</p>
<p>He purses his lips as he reads the instructions and Jisung fiddles with his hands as he waits. The others are all involved in an intense discussion about something and they’re not paying attention to the two of them. Jisung studies Minho’s face and the elegant curves of his features. Minho is mouthing the instructions silently and Jisung’s eyes snag on his lips. There’s an odd flutter in his stomach. He presses the nail of his thumb into his index finger as he shifts away a little. </p>
<p>“Ah, okay. It’s pretty simple.”</p>
<p>When Minho starts explaining, Jisung listens, but at the same time his mind wanders. There’s that feeling again, like that time back in first year when everything about Minho seemed to reassemble in front of his eyes.</p>
<p>Jisung likes listening to him. Jisung realises that he likes Minho’s voice, at the way his words seem to hum with affection. At the other side of the table, Changbin and Seungmin start discussing whether mass media or business students have it worse. Jeongin is staring open-mouthed at them.</p>
<p>Minho squints as he waits for the output, and Jisung swallows and turns his gaze to the row of numbers.</p>
<p>“Do you understand?” Minho asks, raising a brow.</p>
<p>Jisung nods without thinking. “Yes.”</p>
<p>───────</p>
<p>
  <b> <em>Excerpt: Untitled Journal Entry</em> </b>
</p>
<p>I want my writing to capture the honey slow drip of my days and the churning, furious flow of my weeks. I want to capture everything that speaks to me and I want it to speak to others too.</p>
<p>───────</p>
<p>Minho’s triceps flex when he presses the buttons on the induction stove. Jisung fidgets next to him, his eyes sweeping in a line over Minho’s brow, cheekbone and jaw. Minho turns to him and raises a brow. “What?”</p>
<p>Jisung’s cheeks grow hot. “Who cooks shirtless?” Jisung asks staring at the saucepan with great interest. His eyes keep darting to Minho’s chest, however, and – no. “I want an egg on top,” he hastens to say, just to silence his thoughts. He is not flustered. He is just feeling hot because of the weather.</p>
<p>Jisung yelps when Minho slaps his shoulder. He clutches his shoulder and pouts at him. “Why did you do that?”</p>
<p>“Because you’re a brat,” Minho says and raises his hand again. Jisung stumbles away. “And if you want a fried egg, make it yourself.” </p>
<p>In order to get the eggs, Jisung will have to pass Minho, and Minho’s eyes glint and his fingers twitch in a way that promises pain. “I don’t want eggs,” Jisung says, leaning back against the counter.</p>
<p>Minho cracks his knuckles. “What do you mean, I don’t want eggs,” he says, voice a high pitched squeak. Jisung glares at him and opens his mouth, but, “I want eggs now,” Minho says before Jisung can say anything.</p>
<p>Jisung tries to dart past Minho, but he stumbles and while he is wind-milling his arms to regain balance, Minho stalks up to him and drags his fingers down Jisung’s ribs. Jisung spends the next couple of minutes shrieking, and defending himself by slapping and poking and pinching.</p>
<p>Minho leaves him in a heap on the floor and goes to check on the saucepan. “I hate you,” Jisung tells Minho’s back. Minho flips him off without turning.</p>
<p>Jisung wants to say something because he is staggered and talking will distract him from the persistent flutter in his stomach, but he doesn’t know what to say. He straightens out his limbs, gets up from the floor, fixes his hair and hopes that his blush isn’t obvious. He goes to the fridge and takes out eggs.</p>
<p><em> Fuck</em>, he thinks as he unhooks the frying pan – a tiny, adorable, yellow thing – and places it on the stove. He keeps his gaze fixed on it as it heats up, then sprays oil on it and cracks an egg.</p>
<p>“Minseok bought this on a whim,” Minho says, waving a packet in front of Jisung’s eyes. Jisung squints at the label. “It was a smashing success,” Minho retracts his hand, the plastic crinkling. </p>
<p>Jisung licks his lips. “Really?” He pokes the eggs, the edges are browning, just the way Minho likes it.</p>
<p>“Hmm-mm. That man has good taste.”</p>
<p>Jisung doesn’t need to look to know that Minho is smiling fondly. It shines in his voice. He doesn’t reply. His emotions are cresting and plunging with a rapidity that chips hollow spaces in his mind. He isn’t hungry anymore.</p>
<p>He still accepts his bowl when Minho hands it over to him with a, “ta-dah!” and still follows him to the living room. He talks with Minho for hours and helps him clean up. The moment he leaves; he texts Hyunjin:</p>
<p><b>Jisung</b>: i’m so screwed</p>
<p>───────</p>
<p>Hyunjin is not sympathetic. He is just judgemental. “I can’t believe you went gaga over a bit of skin and statistics.”</p>
<p>“Jisung reminds me of a monk sometimes,” Seungmin settles on Felix’s bed with a mug, “reclusive, easily flustered by sexual things–”</p>
<p>“I am not a monk,” Jisung grumbles, “I just… well, I have not reacted to Minho like this before,” he flushes. He accepts the mug that Hyunjin hands him and studies the contents with an intensity that is unnecessary.</p>
<p>Felix snorts. “You should see the way you dance with him at clubs,” he says, and takes out his phone.</p>
<p>“No thanks.” He scowls when Hyunjin crowds beside Felix to peek at the phone. “What I meant is that I have not reacted like this while sober.”</p>
<p>It is a lost cause, however. He sits on his bed and watches his idiotic, annoying friends wolf whistle and laugh as they watch the video of Jisung embarrassing himself. He takes a picture of them for no particular reason then pockets his phone. He lets them have their fun with benevolent resignation, but regrets it the moment they begin imitating him.</p>
<p>“Oh, Minho hyung, sweep me off my feet,” Hyunjin cries, rolling his hips. A burst of laughter makes him bend forward and he nearly topples Seungmin who has his arm round Hyunjin’s neck.</p>
<p>“No, no,” Seungmin pouts and furrows his brow, “Minho hyung, let me sweep you off your feet so that I can feel those thighs,” his voice is supposed to be smoky, Jisung guesses, but instead the words sound like he is being strangled. He starts coughing and detaches himself from Hyunjin to get his mug.</p>
<p>Felix takes Seungmin’s place and Jisung decides he hates all of them. But before he can voice his sentiment, a question flashes through his mind. What if Minho <em> knows </em>?</p>
<p>“Do you think,” he hesitates. He isn’t loud enough to be heard over Hyunjin’s raucous imitation of one of their outings, but he doesn’t want to raise his voice. <em> If it is above a whisper then it’s real</em>. The thought dissipates as fear prods him with icy fingers. “Do you think he knows?” he says, pitching his voice to be heard. He winces. The three of them pause and then move towards him like a wave.</p>
<p>Seungmin answers him. “No.”</p>
<p>“Yeah,” Hyunjin says, “hyung’s oblivious.”</p>
<p>Jisung doesn’t believe it, but he still believes it. His shoulders are tight like a cord. The most important thing right now is that Minho shouldn’t know about his crush, that he should have an illusion of dignity left. “Are you sure?” he asks. <em> Please say yes. </em></p>
<p>Hyunjin nods. Jisung sighs and looks at his friends who are clustered in a semi-circle around him.</p>
<p>“There was a time when I thought–” Felix says, but then doesn’t complete the sentence. “Minho hyung is too wrapped up in Minseok hyung to notice anyway.”</p>
<p>There’s a smidgen of relief, as temporary as it is. “I need to get over him,” Jisung says.</p>
<p>Felix pats his back. “Give yourself time. It’ll be alright.”</p>
<p>───────</p>
<p>“It is fucking impossible to read books if you’re trying to find answers to your existential crisis,” Minho says. He is sprawled out on the floor beside Jisung, a hand thrown over his eyes.</p>
<p>Jisung drags his eyes back to the e-reader and scrolls through the books that Minho has bought. They’re in three different languages and Jisung finds it attractive as hell. He pauses. He has always known that Minho is multilingual, but he has never been so enamoured by it before.</p>
<p>Minho sits up. “You said the floor will be cold,” he complains, pulling off his t-shirt. Jisung’s mouth goes dry in fearful anticipation, but Minho is wearing a vest underneath.</p>
<p>Jisung sighs in relief. “How was I supposed to know that you’ve layered up like a dummy?” he says. Maybe realising that he has a crush has lifted the unconscious disallowing of such thoughts. Case in point: having to consciously prevent himself from staring at Minho’s arms.</p>
<p>“It’s science, okay? A large t-shirt for ventilation and a vest to soak up the sweat.”</p>
<p>Jisung stares at him. Minho has that ‘butter won’t melt in my mouth’ expression that he gets when he says something weird just to get a reaction. “I don’t think science works the way you think it does.”</p>
<p>Minho kicks him. Jisung kicks back. They stop after that because it is too muggy to scuffle. Jisung wriggles to another spot on the floor because his body has warmed the previous spot. The fancy residents of this building have overloaded the fuse box, so there is no electricity.</p>
<p>“These are a lot of books, hyung,” Jisung says after he has settled down again. “A lot!”</p>
<p>Minho groans. “I went overboard, didn’t I? And I can’t even bear to read any of them.”</p>
<p>“Why not?” Jisung clicks on one of the books. It is about 200 pages. “This one is pretty short,” he holds it in front of Minho’s face.</p>
<p>Minho takes one look at it and pushes it away. “It’s too much like my course work.”</p>
<p>Jisung scrolls to the first chapter. The light outside is dim and grey and Jisung can’t tell if the dimness is because of the cloudy sky or because sunset is fast approaching.</p>
<p>“It’s just…” Minho says. Jisung clicks off the e-reader, hugs it against his chest, waiting. “I get bored if the topics aren’t related to what I am feeling, and if it <em> is </em> related to my crisis then I can’t read it all at once because – because it is too much,” Minho continues.</p>
<p>“Do you think it is difficult because it has become like work?” Jisung shifts his head to face Minho. The coldness of the tiles is soothing against his shoulder.</p>
<p>“No it is more than that.” Minho rolls onto his side.</p>
<p>Jisung regrets this turn of events. The full weight of Minho’s gaze is on him, and Jisung, not having mastered the peculiarities of eye contact yet, feels himself flush. He darts his eyes back to the ceiling.</p>
<p>“I am constantly searching for answers in the words of others and it is tiring. And what they say overwhelms me.”</p>
<p>Almost against his will, Jisung looks at Minho again. But just like him, Minho’s gaze has drifted somewhere beyond Jisung’s prone form. Inexplicably, Jisung feels a stab of pain.</p>
<p>“What are the answers?” Jisung says to buy time. He pushes down the pain before it makes its way to his face.</p>
<p>Minho grimaces. The light outside dims further as the clouds flit over the sun. The flat is quiet enough that the walls gleefully bounce the squeak of Jisung’s sweaty arm sliding against the tile. “Find something that gives you purpose,” Minho brings a hand up and counts off his fingers, “have a moral… structure? Face an inspiring incident, blah, blah,” he fists his hand, pulls it back to his chest. “What the fuck. Nothing makes sense.”</p>
<p>Minho doesn’t say anything more. Jisung says, “one day at a time, hyung,” to fill the silence because he can’t think of anything that will make Minho feel better.</p>
<p>“Hmm-mm.”</p>
<p>Jisung guesses that the conversation is over so he switches on the e-reader, starts reading.</p>
<p>Somewhere in the space between two lines, Jisung starts drifting off; the heavy, comfortable silence lulling him to sleep. But, before he can give into it completely, the door slams open and Minho scrambles up to greet Minseok.</p>
<p>Jisung sits up, still a little dazed and averts his eyes when Minho kisses Minseok. He doesn’t know why but the floor beneath him seems to unravel and there’s a cold knot that’s expanding in his sternum. Without even knowing that he has a question, Jisung has already found the answer. He stands and searches for his bag.</p>
<p>“Ah, Jisung,” Minseok says, smiling kindly, “if you’re planning to leave then you should probably stay for a little while longer. It’s starting to drizzle.”</p>
<p>“I love the rains, they’ve saved me from this infernal heat,” Minho sighs and then frowns, “why are you still packing?”</p>
<p>Jisung flushes under the scrutiny. “Um, I have some work – I left my laptop at home, so…”</p>
<p>Minho squints at him. “Is it important? You didn’t say–”</p>
<p>“Yeah, deadline’s today.” Jisung shoulders his bag. “I really should go.” <em> Why? Stop being weird. </em></p>
<p>“Okay?” Minho still looks puzzled, but waves back when Jisung gives him a jaunty wave as he steps past him and hurries it to the door.</p>
<p>Jisung’s stomach doesn’t stop churning.</p>
<p>───────</p>
<p>
  <b> <em>Excerpt: Untitled Journal Entry</em> </b>
</p>
<p>Can you hunt for answers in the words and experiences of others? Is that the right way to find answers? Is enlightenment (in the spiritual sense??) the only way to find answers or can other’s findings be applicable to you too?</p>
<p>
  <strike>I wish there was some other way, I wish I didn’t have to know some things, I wish I had never realised, I wish I could forget</strike>
</p>
<p>───────</p>
<p>“I’m not going to try anything, but it’s sad that I don’t even have a <em> miniscule </em>chance if I ever compete for Minho hyung’s affection.” Jisung studies Minseok’s retreating back. He has a really nice back, even Jisung with all his jealousy and leftover embarrassment can see it. He turns and catches Hyunjin exchanging a look with Felix. “I said I’m not going to do anything!”</p>
<p>“It’s not that, we’re just worried that you’re in too deep already.” Seungmin picks up a kimbap and inspects the filling. He places it on Jisung’s lunch box. “We don’t want you to get hurt.”</p>
<p>Jisung stuffs the kimbap into his mouth. “I’m already hurt. That’s how unrequited crushes work.”</p>
<p>Felix winces, but Jisung can’t tell if it is because of his words or because he is speaking with his mouth full. “I don’t even know what to say. Minho hyung is so happy with Minseok hyung, but then there’s you pining away for Minho hyung. A tragic triangle and two of the people involved are my friends.”</p>
<p>“Thanks,” Jisung says, sarcastically. He swirls the water in his cup ramyeon. The canteen lady always poured too much water. “Also, there’s no triangle, if they find out, I’ll <em> die</em>.”</p>
<p>“Let’s change the topic before he starts whining again,” Hyunjin says, ducking when Jisung throws a napkin at him. “Did you hear what this dude in my class did?”</p>
<p>Jisung lets his attention drift and broods into his noodles. It wasn’t like he would’ve confessed to Minho even if he had realised he had a crush last year itself. It’s just that his self-esteem is taking a beating – rather stupidly – because Minho’s standards are out of this world. Minseok is handsome, sweet, looks at Minho with goofy adoration and makes him smile constantly. Jisung feels embarrassed for even fantasizing about confessing to Minho.</p>
<p>After lunch he drags his sad, pining self to the rundown apartment he shares with Felix. Halfway through, he gets a text from Minho asking if he can meet him. Jisung asks him to come to his apartment.</p>
<p>Minho is already leaning against the door when Jisung arrives. He notices that Minho’s eyes are heavy, his face drawn. He steps away from the door when he sees Jisung.</p>
<p>“Hello.” Jisung unlocks the door and steps inside, Minho following him, nearly stepping at his heels. “Do you want something to drink?” he asks, squatting down to unlace his boots. Minho simply kicks his sneakers off.</p>
<p>“No,” Minho says and lumbers past the landing and disappears into the bedroom.</p>
<p>Jisung drops his bag on the ratty couch, and goes to a small area that is designated as the kitchen. It has an induction stove, a cooler, cooking utensils and a new tenant: a cactus named Fig. He checks the cooler, grabs two cans of cold coffee and goes to the bedroom.</p>
<p>Minho is sprawled on Jisung’s bed and is staring at the fluorescent stars on the ceiling. Jisung places the cans on the wonky little side table and prepares to shove Minho till he gets some space. But, Minho rolls away and pats at the space next to him.</p>
<p>It is a tight fit, and Minho seems unwilling to relinquish any more space. So, Jisung lies next to him, Minho’s warmth seeping into his side like a brand. The stars are bright because Minho has pulled the curtains closed and Jisung has shut the door and switched off the lights.</p>
<p>“You had stars even in your dorm.” Minho says. His voice was too quiet. Too blank.</p>
<p>“Yeah, it’s like a thing with me I suppose. I’ve always had them after I left boarding school.”</p>
<p>“Hmm. Do you leave them behind? When you move, I mean?”</p>
<p>He thinks of the stars glowing in the dark for a random freshman who is lying on Jisung’s old dorm bed. A constant emission of light even after Jisung has moved on, leaving the trappings of his first year behind. But, he is a conscientious tenant and scraped them off before he left. He tells Minho this and adds, “I left a tiny star behind, just for fun. A mystery for the first year who gets the room.”</p>
<p>“’I was here’ graffiti, but Jisungie style,” Minho says.</p>
<p>“I never thought of it that way,” Jisung murmurs, studying the stars. How quaint is this wish to have stars with him everywhere he goes, but how comforting. <em> Even as I look at the stars, the stars look at me</em>, he had always thought, but what Minho said – about these tiny fluorescent stars being his mark in a space he once occupied – it warms him.</p>
<p>A space that remembers me, a space that has meaning. A space for me.</p>
<p>“Minseok hyung met us today, he bought us kimbap,” Jisung says when Minho doesn’t reply. “I’m sorry that I rushed away like that – um I just remembered that I had an assignment.” The nail of his thumb finds his forefinger.</p>
<p>Minho is quiet. Silence blankets the room. If Jisung strains his ears, he can hear the susurration of life beyond the windows; lives unbothered by stars and crushes and a boy whose voice wavers when he says, “I’m so terrified, Jisungie.”</p>
<p>Jisung turns to his side to face him even though it makes his ass hang out of the bed. He wraps a hand over Minho’s belly. Minho is sucking in quick, painful breaths, his body trembling with the effort to quieten his tears. </p>
<p>“I don’t know what I am doing. What the fuck sort of degree am I getting? Dance and psychology? I just did shit for four whole years without ever thinking about what I am doing and now this blindness has to end and I am so, so terrified of what I’ll see, of what I’ll do and myself and my lack of skills and ability and my plan for this stupid programme and…” a sob wracks his chest, the sound of it tears Jisung’s heart.</p>
<p>“I don’t know what I’m doing or what the fuck I’m supposed to do now,” Minho whispers. “I can’t, it’s too much.”</p>
<p>Jisung wants to say, <em> it’ll be okay.</em> But he doesn’t. </p>
<p>What he wants to say is, <em> I’m here with you in this painful time and in this uncertain space you’ve found yourself in. </em> He wants to say, <em> I’ll be with you in every way possible. </em>But, he doesn’t.</p>
<p>He just says, “I’m here, hyung, I’m here with you.”</p>
<p>He holds Minho as he cries and lets him talk and talk and talk while he listens with his entire heart.</p>
<p>───────</p>
<p>“Can’t believe this is the end.” Minho picks at the label of the water bottle and stares at the sticky residue on his nail. “Ew,” he mumbles and paws at the carpet.</p>
<p>Jisung stares unseeingly in front of him, too drunk to focus on anything in particular. His thoughts turn and turn, but don’t register in his mind. “I’ll miss you, hyung,” he whispers, before he even realises that he is speaking.</p>
<p>There’s a loud boom on the screen and Felix screeches. Minseok’s booming laugh echoes in the room. “I win,” he sings.</p>
<p>Minho stops scratching the carpet and turns to Minseok. He smiles, eyes crinkling. His hair is in a disarray and he is sweating out his concealer. “Your skin is melting,” Jisung tells him and swipes a thumb under Minho’s eye. There’s a smear of colour on Jisung’s thumb now and he isn’t sure what to do with it.</p>
<p>“It’s too bloody hot here,” Minho complains. He pulls at his shirt. “I’m sweating everywhere. You know what, let’s go to the bedroom. There’s A.C. there,” he says. “Minseokie, I’ll be in the bedroom,” he calls out.</p>
<p>“The bedroom is out of bounds!” Jisung says loudly to get Minho’s attention.</p>
<p>Minho laughs and pushes his hair back. Jisung stares at the motion, entranced by the way Minho’s hair flops back on his forehead. “I was the one who said the bedroom is out of bounds and I take it back. Come on,” he stands up, wobbling only a little and offers a hand to Jisung.</p>
<p>“Huh?” Jisung mutters, unsure of <em> what </em> Minho is referring to, but he takes his hand anyway. Minho’s hands are always warm and soft.</p>
<p>Minho rolls his eyes and pulls Jisung up. Jisung’s legs refuse to work and his body tilts sideways. The floor rushes towards him at an alarming rate, but Minho catches him, and straightens him. “You’re a mess,” Minho chuckles, but Jisung is distracted by how good he smells.</p>
<p>Jisung’s feet don’t cooperate with him. They go hither and thither of their own accord which causes him to stumble, or they knock together causing him to stumble, or he steps on his own toes which causes him to stumble. The astringent smell of the cheap rot-gut gin assaults his nose when he walks out of the living room and into the short hallway leading to the bedroom. His stomach heaves.</p>
<p>Seungmin nods at him as he leaves the bathroom. “I’m gonna crash on the couch,” he says with a weak smile. “I’m exhausted,” he confides as if he’s  put out by the fact that he is tired after nearly six hours of revelry.</p>
<p>Jisung squints at him. Seungmin’s face is scrubbed clean and he is in his undershirt. The sequins on Jisung’s shirt start itching something fierce.</p>
<p>“Wait, let me get you something to sleep on and come to the bedroom for a while, there’s A.C.” Minho says, but Seungmin shakes his head.</p>
<p>“I promised that I would play a game before sleeping and Minseok hyung gave me a sheet. That’s enough for me. I’ll come later if it’s too hot.” Seungmin walks away. Felix and Minseok’s cackles float into the hallway. Changbin’s annoyed grumbling follows a moment later.</p>
<p>Jisung takes a step forward and his shoulder knocks into the wall. “I am not drunk, walk straight,” Jisung snarls at his feet. Minho steadies him again.</p>
<p>“Thank fuck,” Minho says and pushes the door to his bedroom open. </p>
<p>Jisung follows him inside and collapses on the floor exhausted. His entire body aches after hours of dancing and his feet are numb. The whir of the A.C. breaks the silence. His thoughts clear a little, but there’s still the heady confidence of inebriation sizzling in his veins.</p>
<p>Minho walks past Jisung’s prone form without a shirt on. Jisung wolf whistles because he can. Minho looks down at him with alarm, “why are you screeching? Are you hurt?”</p>
<p>Jisung pouts at him. “I was wolf whistling,” he says, “cause you’re hot.”</p>
<p><em> Shut up, shut up, shut up, </em> his last brain cell chants, but the point of being drunk is that he can ignore the foghorn of rationality.</p>
<p>“Yeah? Thank you.” Minho looks fond and godlike. The tasteful lighting that makes Minho look more divine than usual, Jisung thinks. The thought that it is <em> him </em> that is making Minho beam like that makes Jisung’s heart all warm. Minho pulls on a shirt and Jisung mourns the loss of… <em> stop checking him out, you creep! </em></p>
<p>“I’ll miss you a lot, Jisungie,” Minho says, after the t-shirt is in place. He is still smiling and his expression is still so fond that Jisung can’t bear to look. Looking away isn’t an option either.</p>
<p>Jisung dislikes the unfairness of it all.</p>
<p>
  <em> There’s nothing unfair, leave, leave, leave. </em>
</p>
<p>Minho settles down on the floor besides him. “I think you’re one of my closest friends,” his voice is a soft murmur. “I’m glad I took that English class last year.”</p>
<p>Something terrible yawns open in Jisung’s chest. A pit. <em> The Pit and the Pendulum, </em> he thinks nonsensically, thinks of reading a book just to impress Minho. <em> I’ve been trying to impress him since first year. For shame. </em> But the pit is warm and its edges spool inward, inward into a cold warmth the more Minho looks at him and the more he looks at Minho looking at him. What the fuck is a cold warmth? <em> Love is falling, falling is scary. </em>Huh. </p>
<p>“Hyung, I–” <em> Shut up, shut up! </em></p>
<p>A stillness like when you’re teetering on a precipice. He is up on his elbows before he knows it and he pulls himself onto his knees. He nearly falls, but grabs Minho’s shoulders. He can see the thickness of Minho’s lashes, can see the imperfections that his smeared makeup hides.</p>
<p>Minho’s face changes, skin pinching together in confusion.</p>
<p>“I love you – like you so much … want, want to be with you an’ only you always” he says – babbles. Jisung watches Minho’s face, his words slipping out without any realisation on his part. Minho’s mouth drops open when he understands.</p>
<p>“Jisungie–” Minho’s face is blank.</p>
<p>Horror, horror but also an instinct to keep talking – keep talking. Silence is horrible.</p>
<p>Then he is sprawled on the floor and Minho is gone.</p>
<p>───────</p>
<p>Cold warmth is burning shame and the knowledge that he fucked everything up.</p>
<p>───────</p>
<p><b>Minho</b>: Jisungie, can we please talk before I leave? </p>
<p><b>Minho</b>: Listen, I know it’s embarrassing but can we just talk it out? I promise I won’t hurt you or anything, but we need to sort this out </p>
<p><b>Minho</b>: Hyung is not mad, promise 🥺🥺</p>
<p><b>Minho</b>: Jisung, come on</p>
<p><b>Jisung</b>: Hyung, I’m sorry for what happened yesterday. I shouldn’t have done that and I put you in an uncomfortable position. I’m really sorry. I’m sorry for my obviously unwelcome confession, for disrespecting you and Minseok hyung and for ruining your party. Though it isn’t an excuse, I don’t know what I was doing because I was drunk. I would’ve never thought of doing this if I was sober. But, I obviously need to be more responsible about drinking.</p>
<p>───────</p>
<p>
  <em> Missed call from Minhooo Hyungiee </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Missed call from Minhooo Hyungiee </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Missed call from Minhooo Hyungiee </em>
</p>
<p>───────</p>
<p><b>Minho</b>: Jisung, I understand and you don’t have to apologise for anything. But I really think we need to sort this out by talking</p>
<p><b>Minho</b>: I appreciate your apology and I know we can put this behind us, but first we need to address it</p>
<p><b>Jisung</b>: Please.</p>
<p><b>Jisung</b>: I need time.</p>
<p><b>Jisung</b>: Please.</p>
<p>───────</p>
<p>
  <em> Missed call from Minhooo Hyungiee </em>
</p>
<p>───────</p>
<p>“Minho hyung called me,” Felix says. “What should I say.”</p>
<p>Jisung shakes his head, turns to his book. “I don’t know.”</p>
<p>───────</p>
<p><b>Minho</b>: Ok, Jisungie. Whenever you are ready.</p>
<p>───────</p>
<p>
  <b>section iii: inertia</b>
</p>
<p>(Jisung’s third year: the year where nothing seemed to happen)</p>
<p>
  <b> <em>Year Three: Semester V and VI</em> </b>
</p>
<p>“I can’t believe I killed her!” Felix wails.</p>
<p>Jisung makes soothing noises, phone cradled between his ear and his shoulder. He’s balancing two plates and they’re in danger of slipping at any moment, so he scuttles to the dining table before they fall.</p>
<p>“– she must be so disappointed in me,” Felix’s voice is watery. He sounds like he is talking from inside a well, so Jisung surmises that he’s in the stairwell of their flat.</p>
<p>Jisung places the dishes on the table and shakes his hand. He takes the phone in his other hand and rubs his ear with his free hand. “Can cacti die?”</p>
<p>Felix makes an odd, choking sound, “I just told you that she’s dead!”</p>
<p>Jisung flops on the couch and puts his foot on the coffee table. He can’t quite reach it, so he slides down till his feet reach the table. “I mean, she’s a cactus, maybe she’ll get better if you water her a little more? They’re resilient, right?”</p>
<p>“Yeah, lemme water the corpse of my plant after ignoring her for months and sending positive vibes to her. Hey! I can use my tears right?”</p>
<p>“Wow,” Jisung says, unimpressed, “I am just trying to help.” He drops his foot when his mother scowls at him.</p>
<p>Felix sighs. “I asked botany noona on the fifth floor. She said and I quote, ‘when is the funeral?.’”</p>
<p>“The same noona who looked like she wanted to kill you when you asked if botanists grew better shrooms? Jisung cackles.</p>
<p>Felix growls and his voice is loud when he says, “fuck you! Seungmin dared me. Anyway,” he says when Jisung laughs harder, “it seems like a bad omen.”</p>
<p>“Bad omen?” Jisung flexes his toes. “What?”</p>
<p>“Death before the beginning of the new semester, you know. Like foreshadowing or symbolism or something.”</p>
<p>“I hope I get some foreshadowing the next time before I do something dumb,” Jisung says, tamping down on the images of Minho’s face.</p>
<p>“Prepare a eulogy before you get back,” Felix's voice is knowing, “we’ll bury her together.”</p>
<p>───────</p>
<p><b>Minho</b>: Jisungie! I got the project!!! 🎉</p>
<p><b>Minho</b>: We’re starting soon! And they didn’t even ask for a lot of changes! Unreal!</p>
<p><b>Minho</b>: It is just a pilot, but I’m so excited!! ✨💫🌟🎉</p>
<p><b>Minho</b>: How are you by the way?</p>
<p><b>Jisung</b>: Congrats hyungie!!! Excited for you</p>
<p>───────</p>
<p>Somehow, Jisung becomes a part of a writing club.</p>
<p>He doesn’t quite know how it happens. He saw a flier, wrote a piece, sent it off and then he’s being interviewed (an awkward phone call where he says that he is hundred percent better than everyone because he couldn’t hear what the interviewer said. The interviewer laughed, and Jisung still wonders what that meant) and they tell him he has been accepted.</p>
<p>The people in this club are intense.</p>
<p>Now, Jisung likes competition -- the friendly sort where you rib and tease each other and it really isn’t all that serious. A lark, more like.  But, when Jisung reads out his story or shares his ideas in class, he can feel two and a half dozen pairs of eyes appraising him. The worst part is that he doesn’t even know the rubrics of their assessment.</p>
<p>The moment he realises that he is in over his head, he scrambles to keep up with his more polished, more serious classmates. He reads reviews upon reviews and throws around phrases like <em> piercingly honest </em> and <em> dazzlingly incisive </em> and <em> scathing wit </em> and says things like, “I liked how you explored the psychodynamic forces at play and how your main character’s conscious self is trying to break free of the collective frailties of human existence.”</p>
<p>“Do you even know what it means?” Hyunjin asks after he tells him about this line which had gotten him a smattering of confused applause.</p>
<p>Jisung ponders the question. He does know the meaning of the individual words. “I know it but I don’t think it applied in the context,” he shrugs. His character’s life reduces as Hyunjin’s character wallops him in the game they’re playing.</p>
<p>“What was it about anyway?” Hyunjin isn’t even looking at him, he’s too focused on decimating Jisung.</p>
<p>“A gritty tale about a man who compares himself to an animal.”</p>
<p>Hyunjin turns to him and wrinkles his face. “Your club is weird.”</p>
<p>“It was a prompt,” Jisung sighs as the screen blanks for a moment and then announces Hyunjin as the winner. His phone buzzes and he checks it, his heart crawling to his throat when he sees the notifications of the writing club group chat. “Fuck, these people don’t know how to chill.”</p>
<p>───────</p>
<p><b>Minho</b>: Long time, no see. How’re you, how is college?</p>
<p><b>Jisung</b>: Sorry for the late reply, I’m fine, college is hectic</p>
<p><b>Jisung</b>: How are you?</p>
<p>───────</p>
<p>“Which is why I can’t text Minho,” Jisung tells Seungmin and his judgmental eyebrows.</p>
<p>Seungmin’s eyebrows arch higher. “That sounds like a–” he pauses and breathes out. “Can you explain what you mean?”</p>
<p>Jisung rifles through his bag for a pen and book. “Glad you asked,” he says, uncapping the pen and flipping top the last couple of pages of his book. “See it is like this.” He draws a circle and roughly divides it into five, unequal sections. He names the largest one 'existing.' Then, in descending order, he names the other sections as, writing, club, classes and stuff.</p>
<p>“Ugly as fuck,” Seungmin comments. “Is this supposed to be a pie chart?”</p>
<p>Jisung smacks his hand. “Do you see how much energy and motivation I have to deal with other stuff? I don’t have energy to like...” he flaps a hand, “–to suppress my memories and talk like a normal human being.”</p>
<p>Seungmin sips his coffee, sighs. “Just text him back. I know you’re embarrassed, but Minho hyung will never–”</p>
<p>“I know,” Jisung cuts him off, “I just need time to reply. It’s…” Jisung drags a finger through the crumbs of his cookie, “it’s just hard. Confronting the shame and horror again and again and it happens every time I see his texts.”</p>
<p>The laughter and murmur of the people in the café is juxtaposed by a soft, elegiac crooning from the speakers. Jisung crumples a tissue and studies the doodles of stars, flowers and the complaints that he has written in the back of his book. “What the fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck this dude,” he’s written and beneath it, Felix’s crooked writing asks, “is it possible for your ears to bleed because of bs?”</p>
<p>“Just… talk to him properly before it is too late,” Seungmin says.</p>
<p>“I will. I just need time.”</p>
<p>He needs a lot of time, it turns out. For every message Minho sends, it takes Jisung at least a couple of days to reply back. It is difficult to beat back the intrusive replay of his confession and the resultant flood of shame, hot at first and then cooling into sludge. It sticks. Oh, how well it sticks.</p>
<p>Then, Minho starts taking time, too. The first time Jisung notices, anger explodes within him. It is quiet, but has an intense pressure that makes his mind hazy for a moment. <em>Why don’t you understand that I need time? </em>Jisung asks the chat window, <em>it isn’t easy for me.</em> <em>Why don’t you understand? Why are you putting me on a time limit?</em></p>
<p>Unfairness calls to unfairness. But, Jisung knows, with the certainty of searching for a mistake that you know you have made, that he is the one who is wrong.</p>
<p>The club and his classes demand his attention so much that it is easy to be washed smooth of overarching worries in the pursuit of everyday challenges. An assignment here, a test and a submission, a presentation there. Jisung thinks that he is like sea glass, knowing only the pattern of his routine’s constant flow</p>
<p>In the middle of the semester, he sees yet another flier. A company is seeking people who write content. Jisung applies because extra cash is extra cash. He sends writing samples to the company (all of them having originally written for the club, past intertwines with the present) and his CV (minimalistic due to lack and not due to stylistic preferences).</p>
<p>He gets the job. He gets busier than ever. Time, always in a hurry, passes swiftly. Texting the hyungs becomes a rare enterprise. Everyone is caught up in their own life.</p>
<p>Jisung is neither happy nor unhappy. He is busy.</p>
<p>───────</p>
<p>Seonwoo sits in front of Jisung. He is perpetually early to class and Jisung is sometimes early. During one such confluence, Seonwoo starts talking to him. At first, they only talk about notes and share opinions about the teacher – a pompous, terrible person who grudgingly shares information – and groan about the work.</p>
<p>Seonwoo is cute. He has nice hair and his eyes always seem to twinkle. Plus, he has dimples, so Jisung is star struck. He doesn’t seem to mind that Jisung is quiet and stiff with him in the first few weeks. He doesn’t even mind when Jisung becomes comfortable with him and unleashes his personality.</p>
<p>Jisung starts coming early to class just to spend more time with him, and he hopes that it is obvious.</p>
<p>“Why don’t you just ask him out, hyung,” Jeongin asks, raising his voice to be heard over the noise of the lunch crowd.</p>
<p>The breeze that ruffles his hair makes Jisung shiver. “Good question,” he nods, crossing his legs and curling them around each other for warmth, “but pass.”</p>
<p>Seungmin rolls his eyes. “Please don’t pine, last year was–” he freezes, mouth dropping open.</p>
<p>Jisung studies the scratches on the table. One of the marks here was made by him being too enthusiastic with a divider. <em> A space that remembers me </em>. His breath shudders. He had made the first move once like an utter dick, hadn’t he?</p>
<p>“Sorry, I shouldn’t have brought that up,” Seungmin says urgently.</p>
<p>Jisung shakes his head. “It’s fine, it’s fine,” he smiles though it is a bit stiff in the corners, “I’ll do – something.”</p>
<p>“There’s a play the performing arts department is putting up,” Hyunjin says before an uncomfortable silence can take over the table, “Changbin hyung said he’ll try to come.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, let’s go. I haven’t seen Changbin hyung in so long,” Felix says. He grimaces into his lunchbox, “will we also be so busy next semester?”</p>
<p>Jisung huffs a laugh. “I can already feel my dissertation chipping away at my mortal form. Will I even exist next year?”</p>
<p>“I don’t understand the point of having to do research in undergrad,” Hyunjin complains then pauses, “actually I don’t understand the point of anything right now.”</p>
<p>A gloomy silence descends on them. Jeongin waves at someone. Jisung picks at his food, having lost his appetite. It occurs to him that he is set to lose many things over the next year. Things that have taken so much time to become familiar over these past semesters will be unfamiliar all over again.</p>
<p>“Let’s just eat,” he mumbles.</p>
<p>───────</p>
<p>Felix drops the cigarette when Jisung opens the door to the bathroom. He snorts as he watches Felix scramble to pick it up. “Are you done?” he asks.</p>
<p>A table fan is whirring away on the countertop, its noise drowned out by the blaring rattle of the exhaust. Seungmin is sitting on the closed commode, protein shaker in hand, while Felix is huddled on the floor. They look utterly foolish.</p>
<p>“You both look like fools,” Jisung tells them because he is suddenly, irrepressibly fond of them. Or maybe he is mistaking the soothing warmth of alcohol for fondness. He doesn’t know, he is halfway drunk.</p>
<p>“You’ve smeared your makeup again,” Seungmin tuts. “I’m not doing it again.”</p>
<p>Jisung pouts and slaps his chest. His limbs are floppy. He stares at them in amazement.</p>
<p>“We’re nearly done,” Felix rasps. He is soft about the eyes and as languid as Jisung is floppy.</p>
<p>Jisung tells him this and Seungmin shakes his head. “This is a terrible idea,” he mutters, smoke billowing out of his mouth. The fan and the exhaust don’t seem to be doing anything to the smell and a part of Jisung wonders if they’re going to wake up to an eviction notice.</p>
<p>“Hyunjin will take care of us!”</p>
<p>Seungmin laughs, takes a swig from the shaker. “This is the perfect opportunity for him to murder us, you know that right? We fooled him into being the designated driver.”</p>
<p>“It’s his fault that he always goes with scissors,” Jisung says. “Also he’s a scaredy cat, he nearly cried when we saw that mushroom face peeling murder thingy.”</p>
<p>“You called out for your mom when you saw that,” Felix says. Buoyed by Seungmin’s snicker, he imitates Jisung and hides his face in his hands “oh god! Mom save me! My parent’s genes did not combine to create me only for me to go insane by watching this!”</p>
<p>Jisung flips them off when they start braying like a pair of donkeys.</p>
<p>“Ask Hyunjin to fix your makeup!” Seungmin calls when Jisung leaves the bathroom.</p>
<p>He stumbles to the living room, his thoughts swirling and threading through the misty euphoria that always hit him when his inhibitions dissolve. He thinks it says something about him that he spends time analysing his drunkenness too.</p>
<p>Hyunjin is rambling to Jeongin, who is staring stone-faced at the TV. “And they basically picked the dude with bulging muscles even though I’m elegantly wiry and sinewy,” Hyunjin whines.</p>
<p>“Hyunjin please fix my makeup or Seungmin won’t take me to the club.”</p>
<p>“I’m the one who is taking you losers to the club,” Hyunjin says, frowning. He gets up, however, and without his support Jeongin lists to the side and flops on the couch.</p>
<p>Hyunjin and Jisung stare at him.</p>
<p>“I am not as drunk as him,” Jisung says after Jeongin shows no inclination to sit up.</p>
<p>“Yeah? Then do your makeup yourself.”</p>
<p>Jisung throws himself at Hyunjin who stumbles back. Imagine being such a noodle. “No, please, please, please,” Jisung rocks Hyunjin from side to side, “you know I cannot do anything when I’m drunk.”</p>
<p>“I hate all of you,” Hyunjin complains and stomps to the table where he has kept his makeup box. He takes a cotton pad and moistens it with micellar water.</p>
<p>Jisung sits – he points his ass towards the sofa and gravity, ever generous, helps him out –  beside Jeongin and pats his hand. “How much did you drink?”</p>
<p>“Until my liver started crying,” he slurs.</p>
<p>“I wish I were you.”</p>
<p>Hyunjin looms over him. “No you don’t.” Jisung fails to close his eyes when Hyunjin pats the cotton pad on his eyelid and grimaces at the burn. “Stop swaying, you hellion,” Hyunjin mutters.</p>
<p>“Where’s the alcohol?” Felix asks. There’s a thudding sound followed by a hiss. “The protein shaker only had like, two spoonfuls of vodka.”</p>
<p>“Innie helped himself to it,” Hyunjin says.</p>
<p>Jeongin groans. “Reg—rets.”</p>
<p>Jisung frowns when he feels Hyunjin clean his other eyelid. “Hey! Fix it, not… clean.”</p>
<p>“You look like you have two black eyes,” Seungmin says. Jisung opens his eyes and sees him squatting in front of Jeongin’s prone form. Jisung leans forward and whacks him then flops down on Jeongin’s thighs.</p>
<p>“I want makeup,” he says, staring at the cracked ceiling. Jisung tugs at Hyunjin’ sleeve and keeps tugging.</p>
<p>Felix stumbles out of the kitchen, protein shaker in hand. “Seungminnie, you should ask for royalties every time we use your protein shaker idea,” he says and Seungmin replies, “yeah!”</p>
<p>“Why are you giving him capitalistic ideas?” Hyunjin says and slaps Jisung’s hand. “Stop it. Also we need to get going before the crowd becomes too much.”</p>
<p>“So that Seungmin can buy a yacht,” Felix informs Hyunjin</p>
<p>“Seungmin wants to go to concerts, but if you want a yacht, we can buy one,” Seungmin says, patting Jeongin, who is whining at the noise.</p>
<p>“I want makeup.”</p>
<p>“I’m booking the cab! Seungmin, please just do something to Jisung’s face.”</p>
<p>“Here,” Felix says, handing over the shaker to Jisung.</p>
<p>Jisung passes it to Seungmin who takes a swig and passes it on to Felix. Hyunjin grumbles at his phone and Jeongin sits up and demands to be a part of the circle – triangle? – square? Shapes are beyond Jisung.</p>
<p>But what Jisung understands even as he loses control of his body and starts shimmying and singing for no reason is this: the simple happiness of being with people who make him feel safe. What also doesn’t escape him is that in a year and a few months, this would not be a moment in time, but something lost to time.</p>
<p><em> It’s a good thing that I am going to forget this in a second, </em>Jisung thinks, but he doesn’t. It is pushed aside when Hyunjin announces that the cab has arrived.</p>
<p>Fifteen minutes into the car ride, Jeongin demands the cab driver to pull over before he vomits. Seungmin, who is dozing against the window, is ready to fight when they awaken him. Hyunjin corrals them into a knot of interlinked arms and herds them back to the building. </p>
<p>Jisung washes his hand in the kitchen sink and somehow sprays water all over his faux silk shirt as he takes a drink. He wanders to the bedroom and takes out his lens before collapsing on the floor. Everything spins. The ceiling and his fluorescent stars merge and unmerge and spiral on their axis as he himself seems to fall upwards towards them.</p>
<p>Jisung’s eyes are drooping, but he keeps them open. Past intertwines with the present and he doesn’t want to miss anything, not even Jeongin retching in the bathroom and Felix knocking things over as he undresses.</p>
<p>“What’re you on the floor for?” Felix asks as he settles besides Jisung.</p>
<p>“Duuno,” Jisung says automatically because articulation is a difficult task right now. He frowns, trying to concentration, “Jeonginnie needs the bed.” His tongue twists and wades through the syllables without sticking to their boundaries.</p>
<p>“Ah. Seungminnie’s conked out on my bed.”</p>
<p>“This will all end one day,” Jisung supplies, overcome.</p>
<p>Felix sighs. “I hope it does, I want to puke now.”</p>
<p>Jisung stays quiet. Jeongin heaves, heaves and then there’s the sound of him emptying his stomach. Underneath these sounds, they can faintly hear Hyunjin begging god to save him.</p>
<p>Jisung looks at the stars. He drifts off, Felix’s hand tight around his waist, the stars lulling him with their constant light. He wakes up briefly when Hyunjin joins them on the floor.</p>
<p>“I hate you all,” Hyunjin whispers, curling around Jisung.</p>
<p>Jisung kisses his forehead. “We’ll make it up to you.”</p>
<p>(The next morning they grit their teeth against their headaches and fawn over Jeongin. They shower Hyunjin with attention and affection and Jisung buys him food. Jeongin is catatonic with his hangover. Hyunjin pretends to hate all of them though he is obviously pleased by all the attention.)</p>
<p>───────</p>
<p>
  <b> <em>Excerpt: Untitled Journal Entry</em> </b>
</p>
<p>Living the best days of your life while knowing that you’re doing so is sad at best, cruel at worst. This knowing is not an analgesic like nostalgia is; it is a sentence.</p>
<p>The word nostalgia was created with two words and their separate meanings. Homecoming and an ache. It brought to mind pleasant memories and the warmth associated with them. Maybe it made you a little sad, but ha – you’ll say, at least you have memories to be nostalgic about.</p>
<p>This knowing has two parts to it, too. Inevitability and an end. You know that the end is inevitable, yet you keep walking, keep moving further in time knowing that one day, you’ll only have the memories left. For all the warmth you feel, you know there’s a goodbye to be said. Even if it is not immediate, it is imminent.</p>
<p>And an inevitable goodbye's the saddest of them all.</p>
<p>───────</p>
<p>
  <b>section iv : denouement</b>
</p>
<p>(The finish line and glimmers of adulthood)</p>
<p>
  <b> <em>Year Four: Semester VII and VIII</em> </b>
</p>
<p>“You sound like a bagpipe,” Jisung pants. He leans against the railing for a second, then pushes himself off it. He treks onwards and upwards.</p>
<p>“Your ass is a bagpipe,” Hyunjin grumbles behind him. He whines when they reach the second floor landing. “Why the third floor of all places!”</p>
<p>Jisung groans. “Because the apartment is on the third floor. Also stop checking out my ass.”</p>
<p>“There’s nothing to check out,” Hyunjin says.</p>
<p>“As if you can talk.” Jisung slams the toe of his boot against the door. Hyunjin just whines again and rests his head against the door.</p>
<p>Felix swings the door open and Hyunjin stumbles inside, shoves the bag he is carrying into Felix’s arms and collapses on the sofa. “Never again shall I carry such a heavy burden,” he says.</p>
<p>“What will you do in the army?” Seungmin asks and scoots to the opposite side of the couch when Hyunjin tries to wipe his forehead on Seungmin’s trousers.</p>
<p>Jisung goes to the kitchen and puts the bags on the counter. It is around 5 o’clock in the evening and all of them have just finished their last exam for this semester. Jisung takes out the eggs and meat.</p>
<p>“Can you start on the eggs?” Felix says, slipping into the kitchen. Hyunjin and Seungmin’s bickering increases in volume. Felix rolls his eyes, “they’re going to be busy for a while.”</p>
<p>Jisung washes his hands, humming. Scissors snip away at plastic and Seungmin starts laughing. Hyunjin yells, “asshole!” and then he laughs too. The suds foam higher, slip away under the relentless stream of water. Jisung wonders how he got here, how he got to have this. A full feast ─ as full as five broke students can afford ─ to celebrate the end of the semester. Friends to celebrate it with. A last hurrah before their last year consumes them as they work to get a degree.</p>
<p>Jisung’s phone chimes. He wipes his fingers on Felix’s t-shirt and evades the annoyed flick of his palm.</p>
<p>“Seonwoo again?” Felix teases. The deep burr of his voice is soothing and it puts Jisung at ease though he hadn’t realised that he is tense.</p>
<p>He relaxes his shoulders, breathes in. “Yeah,” he says, thumbs hovering above his phone. He drives the nail of his thumb into his index finger. “He wants to go on a date before he leaves.”</p>
<p>Fat crackles in the pan, protesting the heat. “That’s great! Where are you guys going?”</p>
<p>“Coffee again, probably. The safest option,” Jisung types quickly, adds a peach emoji and a winking one, sends it. “I like him. He’s great.”</p>
<p>The doorbell rings and Hyunjin crows, “Jeonginnie!” and there’s a clatter of feet. Jeongin starts yelping the moment he enters the threshold, “Hyung, stop! Oh my god!”</p>
<p>“I haven’t seen you in eighty-four years!”</p>
<p>Jisung rolls his eyes, tunes out their argument. Seonwoo agrees and sends him a photo of him lying on his bed, his thick hair fanning out on the pillow. Heart fluttering, Jisung sends back appropriate emojis.</p>
<p>Jisung takes over the snacks – which in itself is a mini meal – while the other four flit in and out to help him. There’s a heaviness to his limbs that has nothing to do with the exams he has written. It is the tiredness of the end catching up, whether one wants it or not. Three years of watching his hyungs leave and now he is the one about to leave.</p>
<p>He puts the food on the plate, picks up the condiments and takes it to the living room. “I’ll get repetitive motion injury because of the amount of food I have to cook for you.”</p>
<p>“Right, cooking breakfast food once a semester will definitely give you an injury,” Seungmin waves his knife at him, “if people who have it heard you, they’ll murder you.”</p>
<p>“I think I have to worry more about you than them,” Jisung eyes the knife and shuffles closer to Hyunjin.</p>
<p>“Hyung, please, I am so hungry,” Jeongin says, trying to grab the plate, “I haven’t eaten since last night.”</p>
<p>Felix tuts. “I told you to have breakfast before you left for your exam.”</p>
<p>Jeongin doesn’t reply because he has already stuffed his mouth. Jisung shakes his head and treks back to the kitchen to get the cutlery.</p>
<p>They sit in a circle and eat, joking and making fun of each other. But Jisung detects undercurrents of sadness too, lurking under every syllable, peeking out more often as the evening wears on.</p>
<p>“What scares me is that everything will be different, but I’ll be the same,” Seungmin says, “I am not going to become more mature just because I graduate, am I?”</p>
<p>Hyunjin splays out on the floor. “Maybe pooling together our collective maturity will help us figure out this adulthood thing.” He sighs and rubs his stomach, “if our hyungs did it then so can we, right?”</p>
<p>“The last time I met him, Changbinnie hyung was twitching because he keeps drinking coffee,” Felix informs him, “and when I asked him why he drank so much coffee, he told me that he did so because it is free in his office.”</p>
<p>Jeongin bites his lips and shifts to lean against Jisung. “I can’t believe I am saying this, but I will miss you all.”</p>
<p>Hyunjin chuckles and smirks. “Ha, I knew it.”</p>
<p>Jisung makes a gagging noise. “Please never smirk again.”</p>
<p>“And the placements–”</p>
<p>“Seungmin, please stop talking about placements. I really don’t want to think of how my sustenance depends on rich men deeming me worthy enough for their companies,” Felix groans.</p>
<p>“Let’s go get drunk,” Jisung suggests, “and complain about the system we’re living in.”</p>
<p>“Yeah!” Hyunjin says, already on his feet. “That’s the best idea, Jisung has ever had!”</p>
<p>Jisung smacks his calf.</p>
<p>───────</p>
<p>Felix turns the tap off. “I wish I could move in with you and Hyunjin.” </p>
<p>Jisung stops poking at the eggs. He shakes his head. “It’s understandable, Lix, you’re moving for your job. Plus, you’re saving a lot of money by staying with your uncle and aunt.”</p>
<p>The sponge that Felix is holding squelches as he attacks a saucepan. “Yeah, but you guys were my first preference, okay?”</p>
<p>Jisung laughs as he flips the omelette. “That’s nice to know.”</p>
<p>“And I’m going to move back to this city the moment I leave my job,” Felix says, scrubbing hard, “my uncle and aunt are nice but super conservative. I don’t want to come back at ten on weekends.”</p>
<p>“Wow, that’s –” </p>
<p>“I know!” Felix sighs, “they don’t say anything but then pull the ‘we’re old, can’t handle the stress’ card with mum.”</p>
<p>Jisung adds a bit of cheese to the omelette. “Are you sure you don’t want to throw your job to the wind and join us?”</p>
<p>“I’m tempted,” Felix admits, turning on the tap with a forceful jerk of his hand, “but I want some savings for when I start my masters.”</p>
<p>Jisung switches off the stove. “Wish we were eight and didn’t have to worry about money.”</p>
<p>“Good old days.” Felix places the saucepan on the counter, switches off the tap and flicks water away from his hand. “You know, I’m kinda jealous of Jeonginnie. He has more time.”</p>
<p>Jisung yelps as the omelette burns his tongue. He screeches as he rolls the morsel around in his, fanning his hands frantically. He swallows the bite and pants. “Fuck. That was hot.”</p>
<p>“You just took it out of the pan,” Felix says, unimpressed. “You’re a mess.”</p>
<p>“Your face is a mess.” Jisung pokes Felix’s stomach with the edge of the plate. “Try some, it’s amazing.”</p>
<p>Felix shakes his head. “No, thank you. I–”</p>
<p>“I’ll have some,” Jeongin says as he enters the kitchen, hair messy and eyes still closed. “I’m hungry.”</p>
<p>Jisung coos and cuts a piece of omelette. “Here, you go.” He feeds the piece to Jeongin.</p>
<p>“I was just saying that I’m jealous of you.” Felix plops down on the floor and sits with his back against the fridge. “You get a whole year to think about your future.”</p>
<p>Jeongin snorts as he lowers himself to the ground and cuddles up beside Felix. “That’s unlikely. I barely have time to remember that I have to eat.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, but at least you don’t have to worry about taxes and stuff.” Felix thumps his head back. “Why did I have to get a job in another city?”</p>
<p>“Because it pays a lot,” Jisung points out. There’s worry churning in his stomach as he is reminded yet again that his semester is going to end soon and not only is his friend leaving, Jisung still doesn’t have a job. He puts his plate in the sink.</p>
<p>“It’ll be weird hanging out with the three of them with you, hyung,” Jeoning says. “It will be weirder than when Changbin hyung and Minho hyung left.”</p>
<p>Felix folds his knees to his chest. “It’ll be weird to leave.”</p>
<p>Jisung puts his plate in the sink and the clink of plastic against steel echoes in the sudden silence. He joins Felix and Jeongin on the floor, presses against Felix’s other side. “Don’t think that we won’t torment you even if you’re hundreds of kilometres away.”</p>
<p>Felix’s smile doesn’t reach his eyes. “I know, but it’s not the same. I know it’s just a year, but this is where we built all our memories together.”</p>
<p>“Hyung, a year will fly by quickly.” Jeongin cuddles closer and looks at Felix with wide, affectionate eyes. “And we’ll be right here.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, Lix. Just watch, nothing would’ve changed.” Jisung wants to laugh at how absurd his statement is because they’re discussing this because things are changing right now. Still he doesn’t have anything better to say.</p>
<p>“I’m holding you on to that promise,” Felix says, putting his arms around both of them. “You’d better keep it.”</p>
<p>Jisung nods, but there’s a leaden weight in his chest.</p>
<p>───────</p>
<p>“Minho hyung asked me to apply for the job opening he sent to our group.” Seungmin picks at the table. “So I did.”</p>
<p>Jisung nods, turning back to his laptop. He types a sentence. “That’s good, Seungminnie. It’s a good job.”</p>
<p>Seungmin sips his coffee. “Yeah. Did you hear back from that place you applied to?” </p>
<p>Jisung saves the document and leans back, stretching his hand above his head. “Nah. I think it’s too difficult for them to create a standardised response saying, ‘you didn’t make it,’” he drops his hands and rolls his eyes. “But they haven’t replied in like, two weeks, so I think freelancing it is.”</p>
<p>“It’s tough though, Jisung,” Seungmin fiddles with the cardboard sleeve of his cup, “I know you already have clients and stuff but you’re just starting with your career. It’s risky.”</p>
<p>Irritation flares like a spark taking to dry grass, but Jisung ignores it. He types another sentence. “I think I can manage. I’m good at this.” There’s a brittle edge to his voice, and Seungmin’s eyes widen slightly.</p>
<p>“Ah – Jisungie, I didn’t mean it like an insult. I just – you know what, let’s not talk about jobs.”</p>
<p>Jisung inclines his head in agreement. Seungmin sips his coffee again. They’re at the table, just the two of them. Both of them have a break between exams unlike Felix and Jeongin. Hyunjin has gone for a two day audition thing. The sunset’s pink and hazy against the smog that hangs in the air.</p>
<p>“I’ll have to leave the city if I get the job,” Seungmin says, lacing his fingers together. “The project has moved to another city now.”</p>
<p>Jisung blinks, mouth dropping open. “Oh my god. Wait – so even you’ll leave?”</p>
<p>Seungmin rubs the back of his neck. “If I get the job then, yes.”</p>
<p>“You’ll get the job,” Jisung says with a flick of his hand, but even with a warm breeze blowing around them, his skin prickles with coldness.</p>
<p>“You know that it’s not Minho hyung interviewing me right? It’s the HR and–”</p>
<p>“I know you’ll do great,” Jisung insists, “Seungmin, you’re a catch, okay? You can do accounts and all in seconds!”</p>
<p>Seungmin laughs, shaking his head. “You know that you’re the only one is impressed, right? It’s pretty basic.”</p>
<p>“Ever since I saw those debit side, credit side things, I’ve never been the same,” Jisung says, shuddering. “But, you’ll leave, Minnie.” It is difficult to keep the hurt tucked tight in his heart, to banish the bewilderment from his mind.</p>
<p>Seungmin shrugs, tugging the zipper of his hoodie. “It’s so strange that this is all ending,” he waves his hand at the silhouette of the main building.</p>
<p>Jisung’s stomach drops and a weight settles in his veins. He hunches forward, suddenly weary. “Yeah. Things are changing,” he says quietly. “They’re changing too much.”</p>
<p>Seungmin is silent for a minute. “Some things…” he pauses, “I think there will be some things that will be the same – that will remain true even if everything else changes.”</p>
<p>Jisung expects Seungmin to say something along the lines of,<em> you’ll still remain an idiot, for one, </em>but his breath catches when he says, “I think that there’s a place for all of us in each other’s hearts. So even when we meander away because we’re too busy or because of life – and that always happens,” Seungmin exhales, “but if we choose to then we can fall into that place again. Because there will always be a place for us.”</p>
<p>Jisung gets up. “I’m going to hug you,” he announces, making his way to Seungmin’s side. He drops down beside him and pulls him into a side hug. “I didn’t even know I needed to hear that,” he mumbles into Seungmin’s shoulder.</p>
<p>“I needed to hear that too,” Seungmin says, patting Jisung’s knees. “I’ve been thinking about this a lot.”</p>
<p>Jisung sighs, snuggling closer. “We’ll make adulthood our bitch, Seungmin. Or at least, we’ll give it grief.”</p>
<p>“I hope we can do that, Jisungie.”</p>
<p>He doesn’t sound sure and Jisung doesn’t believe it himself, but, he reasons, sometimes when you know nothing and can’t control anything, all you can do is hope.</p>
<p>───────</p>
<p>“Do you ever think of how the stars brought us together?” Hyunjin asks, as they walk back after dropping Felix at the train station. </p>
<p>Jisung adjusts his face mask, discreetly wipes away the last of his tears from his lashes. “Do you –” he clears his throat, “do you mean the astronomy club?”</p>
<p>“Yeah,” Hyunjin nods, linking his arm with Jisung’s, “but also like, I made a random decision to talk to you and look at us now. We’re going to be roommates!”</p>
<p><em> Past intertwines with the present. </em> “Starting adulthood together,” Jisung says then pauses, “damn, it’s hitting me now. That we’re, you know, <em> adults </em>.”</p>
<p>“I dunno who gave you the license to be an adult,” Hyunjin grins, “but, I’m glad you’re here, Sungie. I’m glad that we’re going to be roommates.”</p>
<p>There’s a cold tug beneath Jisung’s navel and a prickle at the back of his neck. Everything is unravelling, and it is like watching a ball of yarn come undone. He latches on to Hyunjin’s words. “Yeah, we’ll – we’ll take over the world, Hyunjin-ah. We’ll live our best life.”</p>
<p>“Best life on a budget,” Hyunjin says sagely as they halt at a pedestrian crossing. “I just feel nice knowing that we’ll be doing things together,” he says, “that we’re not… that we won’t be thrown into the sea all alone and asked to swim.”</p>
<p>“Yeah.” Jisung chews his lips as they walk. “It’ll be easier to figure out stuff when we can help each other out.”</p>
<p>Hyunjin hums. “Do you want to get something to eat?”</p>
<p>Jisung smiles and nods. “Of course.”</p>
<p>───────</p>
<p><b>Minho</b>: Happy Birthday, Jisung!</p>
<p><b>Jisung</b>: Thank you!!</p>
<p>───────</p>
<p><b>Jisung</b>: Happy Birthday, Hyung!! Have a good one!</p>
<p><b>Minho</b>: Thanks!</p>
<p><b>Jisung</b>: How are you?</p>
<p>───────</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>
    <b>To be continued</b>
  </p>
</div>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>
  <b>|<a href="https://twitter.com/liquorish_roots">twitter</a>|</b>
  <br/>
  <b>|<a href="https://curiouscat.me/trip_the_zipp">curious cat|</a></b>
</p>
<p><b>References</b><br/><i>Light finds the cracks</i> – Anthem, Leonard Cohen<br/><i>you may have thousands of my days…which I can be merry and happy</i> – The Old Oak Tree’s Last Dream, Hans Christian Andersen<br/><i>“Find something that gives you purpose, have a moral structure... inspiring incident.”</i> – Viktor Frankl’s three ways to discover meaning (doing a deed, experiencing something, attitude towards suffering) and Baumeister’s Four Needs for Meaning (purpose, value, self-efficacy and self-worth)<br/><i>The Pit and the Pendulum</i> – Poe<br/><i>Mushroom face TV show </i>– Hannibal <br/><a href="https://open.spotify.com/playlist/03VF2MRVIZj7U9pHN9OTit?si=mbs9H0okQHuppRIWdvHTbQ">sad life, sad sad</a><br/> Hope you liked it thus far! I would love to hear your thoughts and comments &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Part II</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This chapter takes place after a time skip. Hope you enjoy reading it!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Part II</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>section v: continental drifts</strong>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>July 20__</em>
</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: dinner?</p><p><strong>Hyunjin</strong>: will be late</p><p>───────</p><p><strong>Hyunjin</strong>: can you please wash the fucking dishes</p><p>───────</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: if you can’t talk to the landlord then just say Hyunjin for fuck’s sake</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: i would’ve done it</p><p><strong>Hyunjin</strong>: dude i was busy</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: …</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: you literally, literally said you would talk</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: you offered</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: i have to clean up the bathroom</p><p><strong>Hyunjin</strong>: i only offered because you looked like you would rather die</p><p><strong>Hyunjin</strong>: fine i won’t ever offer again.</p><p>───────</p><p>Jisung closes his laptop and drags himself to the living room. Hyunjin is curled up on the sofa, his glasses reflecting the light from his phone. Jisung wants to scuttle back to his room and not engage in another round of flat faced politeness and barbed irritation, but he’s hungry.</p><p>“Do you want to go out for dinner?” Jisung asks.</p><p>Hyunjin takes a moment – scarcely a second – to straighten his shoulders, and a ragged heat of irritation flares somewhere around Jisung’s jaw. “No,” Hyunjin says, “I’m not in the mood.”</p><p>“We’ve not gone out in a long time,” Jisung points out, stepping nearer to the sofa. “It’s been – ”</p><p>“We’re roommates, we don’t have to hang out all the time,” Hyunjin’s eyes drop to his phone again.</p><p>The sting is sharp and sudden. “But,” Jisung says even though a part of his mind screams at him to, <em>disengage, go back, don’t, don’t,</em> “we haven’t talked for a long time.” <em>Expect for when we fight.</em></p><p>Hyunjin shrugs. “I am going to meet Doyeon for dinner, so I am busy.”</p><p>Jisung takes a deep breath, but it only makes his fermenting annoyance curdle into something bitter. He gnashes his teeth, speaks from between them, “do you have a problem with me?”</p><p>Hyunjin throws his phone on the sofa and stands up so fast that Jisung flinches, surprised. “Fuck, I just need some time to myself, Jisung. I am sorry if that is unthinkable to you or whatever.”</p><p>Jisung gapes him, throat tightening. He clenches his fingers. “Dude, if you didn’t want to go just say so. Why are you snapping at me like this?”</p><p>Hyunjin’s mouth drops open and he raises his eyebrows. He looks thunderstruck, but there’s an alarming undercurrent to the way he’s holding himself. <em>He’s going to cry</em>, Jisung thinks, when Hyunjin folds into himself and his face turns red.</p><p>“Just say so,” Hyunjin’s laugh is ugly and grating. He holds Jisung’s gaze. “You don’t even know,” he shakes his head, laughs again. “You never listened when I told you twenty times, did you?”</p><p>“What?” Jisung asks, he takes a step towards Hyunjin, but he raises a hand to stop him.</p><p>“I have to go,” Hyunjin says and brushes past Jisung to go to his room.</p><p>───────</p><p><strong>Felix</strong>: talk to hyunjin, dude. wtf is wrong with you both.</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: no what is there to say??</p><p><strong>Felix</strong>:  "im sorry for taking everything out of context and snapping at you" would work</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: NO. he’s been a dick for weeks now</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: whose side are you on!?!</p><p><strong>Felix</strong>: no one’s. jisung come on we’re all friends here.</p><p>──────</p><p>Even though guilt plucks at him with beseeching fingers, Jisung boils water for cup ramyeon anyway. He watches the water in a trance, too exhausted to even feel bored. It is nearing 5 A.M. and he hasn’t slept the whole night, too caught up in a documentary. The apartment creaks in its familiar timbre and the birds begin their cautious chirping as they wait for the sun.</p><p>The water roils gently and the front door bangs open. Hyunjin is talking to someone, loud and almost yelling in that way he does when he’s buzzed.</p><p>“I’ll call when I wake up,” Hyunjin says. Then he’s in the kitchen and Jisung pretends to be enthralled by the boiling water. “Are you making ramyeon?” Hyunjin asks, “can I have some?”</p><p>Jisung takes out another cup ramyeon from the cabinet. “Did you have fun at the party?” he clears his throat when his words come out scratchy. He pours water into the cups, and opens the drawer to get chopsticks. The clang of the drawer makes his heart pang for some reason.</p><p>“I suppose,” Hyunjin says and there’s shuffling noises from his corner, “My feet hurt.”</p><p>Jisung turns around, a package in each hand. “You dance for work and you dance in your off-time. What do you expect?” He’s not surprised to find Hyunjin sitting on the floor. He settles down beside him and offers him a cup.</p><p>“Yay! Seafood,” Hyunjin cheers after an elaborate sniff. He drops his chopsticks.</p><p>Jisung hands it to him. “You need to wait.”</p><p>Hyunjin hugs the package to his chest. There’s glitter on every bit of his skin that’s exposed. His hair is a mess and his eyes are drooping. Jisung swirls his noodles around with his chopsticks and hopes that Hyunjin doesn’t fall asleep here.</p><p>Hyunjin shuffles closer to the wall and drags himself up to sit up straighter.“Did you think adulthood will be like this.” </p><p>“Like what” Jisung asks, breathing in the smell of spice and preservatives, “one crisis after another?” he adds when Hyunjin remains silent.</p><p>Hyunjin sighs and scoots closer until his shoulder brushes against Jisung’s. “Remember what Seungmin said that one time? That you don’t change, but things do?”</p><p>“Right.”</p><p>“I never thought I would change so much too in the space of what? A year or so?” Hyunjin murmurs. He blows into his cup, and fishes out a piece of something. “I am…” he says as he chews, “I am growing – I have grown a lot.”</p><p>Jisung’s stomach churns. Light creeps in through the window, just tendrils of it, but it rouses the shadows and plays with them. “That’s – that’s amazing, Hyunjin.” His tongue is thick in his mouth and the words ring hollow. Jisung drops his gaze. </p><p>“But it’s too painful,” Hyunjin continues, as if he hasn’t heard Jisung. “I didn’t want to rip my old self to shreds for this.”</p><p>Jisung turns his neck to look at him. Hyunjin’s shovelling noodles into his mouth now even though it is steaming. “You are still.” Jisung pauses, “you are still the same,” he says softly because it sounds like an insult when said out loud.</p><p>Hyunjin swallows, waves a hand near his mouth and hisses. “If that’s what you think, Jisungie,” is all he says before he gets up and stumbles to get a glass of water.</p><p>Jisung doesn’t ask what he means.</p><p>───────</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: innie dinner this week?</p><p><strong>Jeongin</strong>: sorry hyung, cousins have come over</p><p>───────</p><p><strong>Felix</strong>: can you walk lock pls</p><p><strong>Felix</strong>: i am full of regrets</p><p>───────</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: hey i am gonna order food</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: you want something??</p><p><strong>Hyunjin</strong>: nah, thanks though</p><p>───────</p><p>Jisung stares at the cat video. The cat video loops back to the beginning and plays again.</p><p>He switches to his messaging app out of habit. There are no messages except for the ones from his clients – which he is avoiding – and scrolls down, down, down. He keeps scrolling, giving in to the needling squirminess of masochism and reads the previews of the last texts he has had with his friends.</p><p><strong>Jisung to Felix</strong>: tell lock that i miss her!</p><p><strong>Jeongin to Jisung</strong>: this month is PACKED, gotta catch all of them relatives</p><p><strong>Hyunjin to Jisung</strong>: the tap is leaking again</p><p>Further still:</p><p><strong>Jisung to Chan</strong>: haha</p><p><strong>Changbin to Jisung</strong>: Glad you enjoyed the party 😎 😎</p><p><strong>Seungmin to Jisung</strong>: Talk to you later</p><p><strong>Jisung to Minho</strong>: great to hear that hyung!!</p><p>He opens it. The message information tells him that Minho has not read it yet, and it makes his mood darken further. He closes the app and puts his phone away, stares at the stars on his ceiling. His phone chimes.</p><p>It is a client. <em>Only strangers talk to me with any regularity</em>, Jisung thinks. Gloom descends on him, and his mood plummets into an artic void. Everyone is too busy with either their jobs or their studies. Every conversation has grinded to a halt without him knowing that there was ever a slack to worry about. No one talks anymore. <em>Neither do I</em>, he thinks immediately, <em>but why should I always take the first step.</em></p><p><em>That’s dumb logic</em>, the more reasonable side of his brain supplies.</p><p>He ignores that voice and goes to the kitchen.</p><p>───────</p><p>Everything that’s happening with Hyunjin, and the wisps yesterday’s blues are still prickling him. Maybe that is why he is so off kilter, so clumsy in his dealings with the people at this entrepreneurial meet. It is not comforting because an excuse is always obvious, especially the ones that he tells himself. The truth, Jisung knows, is that he has always sucked at networking. Truth is, he is even worse today than he usually is. For one, he has forgotten his business cards.</p><p>“Maybe you can give me your business cards and I can get back to you,” he smiles thinly at the couple he’s talking to. “I think our interests are aligned.”</p><p>The lady offers him a card and Jisung takes it with both hands. He puts it in his pocket because he forgot his goddamned card case. Crass. He nods at the couple, “I’ll reach out to you soon.”</p><p>The man’s gaze turns probing, sympathetic. “Jisung,” he says. Jisung shifts his weight, discomfort crackling like static in his chest. “Is it okay if we talk for a few moments?” </p><p>“Yeah sure.” Jisung doesn’t want to speak, but this meeting is a small one, and everyone is already talking in groups or pairs. He doesn’t want to hover at the edges waiting for conversations to finish.</p><p>“It seems like you don’t have a solid business plan.” The man’s voice is gentle, like he is breaking news about something terrible to Jisung. “What exactly are you planning to do with your freelancing business?”</p><p>What it means is, Jisung realises, <em>Jisung you have no idea what you’re doing, do you? </em>His face heats, and there’s a crawling sensation around his neck. He digs his thumb into his forefinger.</p><p>The lady speaks next. “We’re not trying to make you feel bad or anything, but we’ve been in this business for some time and we see a lot of us in you.”</p><p>Jisung sips his coffee. It is cold. He hasn’t mastered the art of balancing eating and speaking all at once at networking events. “Well,” he smiles again, but it is just an act of baring his teeth. A grimace. “I’m just starting out, so obviously I’ll…solidify my business plans as I gain more experience. I am focusing on acquiring clients now, can’t freelance without those.” He tacks on a ‘haha’ at the end.</p><p>Man and Woman exchange a look. Jisung wants to go home, but home is under clouds of a feud. Jisung wants to be somewhere that is not this place and not his apartment. He wonders if Felix is busy.</p><p>“Jisung, you’re still in your early twenties right?” the man asks, then continues at Jisung’s nod, “when you’re so young, it might seem like you have all the time in the world to figure out stuff.”</p><p>“But if you do random things, experiment a lot – they’re good learning experiences, no doubt – but without a plan, you’ll wake up one day when you’re older and there’ll be no clear path in front of you. All you’ll have is a bunch of rag-tag stuff you’ve done,” the lady’s brows are sloped with the weight of sympathy.</p><p>Jisung wants to flip them off, to let their words roll off his back, but he’s struck by what they’re saying. Because. Because he has no idea what he’s doing. Why doesn’t he have a salaried job? He doesn’t know, he hadn’t applied to many places after graduation because he was tired of being rejected. He was good at writing, he’d thought, why not make it a career. He wants to slap his younger self. </p><p>“Um – I’ll figure it out,” he shuffles backwards, “thank you for your advice.” He gives them a short bow, avoiding their sympathetic eyes and makes the decision to leave even though he hasn’t spoken to all the people yet.</p><p>The man pats Jisung’s shoulder. “You can reach out to us, if you want.”</p><p>Jisung nods. <em>That’s not going to happen. </em></p><p>Later, as he sits in the bus on his way back home, he is still riding the high of relief at having left the meeting. But there’s humiliation warring with it as he thinks about the couple, at how they had figured out that he didn’t know what he was doing, at how he didn’t fit in. And at how easily he had confirmed it without even doing anything. <em>That’s the problem, I don’t do anything. </em></p><p>Jisung leans his head against the window. The bus creaks and groans as it navigates rush hour traffic. It knows where it has to go, where it is supposed to be. Unlike Jisung, who feels as important and anchored as a bit of paper being blown in the wind. After a year or so in the freelancing space, there’s a thought tickling at the edges of his mind. That this isn't working out.</p><p>But then, what is the space for him?</p><p>Certainly not his home, he observes drily when he enters his apartment and Hyunjin gives him a vague smile and leaves to spend the night with his partner. The apartment sighs, empty.</p><p>───────</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: Hello. Apologies for not replying yesterday night. My working hours are from 9 A.M. to 7 P.M. from Mondays to Fridays and 9 A.M. to 1 P.M. on Saturdays.</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: You can call me any time during my work hours.</p><p><strong>AeroClient</strong>: Some other time.</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: Would 4 P.M. today be a good time?</p><p><strong>AeroClient</strong>: I’ll tell you.</p><p>───────</p><p>
  <em>9:43 P.M. Call from AeroClient</em>
</p><p>───────</p><p>
  <em>August, 20__</em>
</p><p>Hyunjin tells him, “I need some space,” one day in summer when the sun has flicked the thermometer to the highest extreme. </p><p>Jisung realises that this thing between them is more serious than he thought at the same time he recognises that the round, lumpy silhouette on the other side of the window. It is a bird. Then fear slams into him, hot and burning, but just as quick it transmutes to anger and knocks his sense askew.</p><p>“What. Do you mean?” Jisung exhales a ragged breath, “what space?”</p><p>Hyunjin looks belligerent, eyes hard and mouth pulled tight. He is trying to control his expression, but they flicker across his face anyway. His shoulders are hunched. “You can’t expect me to be there for you all the time. I have a partner now and a lot more work events –”</p><p>Jisung scoffs, clenches his fist. “You’re important, got it.” He opens the fridge, stares unseeingly at it while Hyunjin’s voice rises.</p><p>“Let me fucking finish. You demand too much time – I cannot – we have different priorities and we cannot live in each other’s pockets all the time!”</p><p>Jisung grabs a bottle of water and kicks the door shut before whirling to face Hyunjin. “You’re such an asshole! What the fuck? You think I’m not busy?”</p><p>Hyunjin takes a step closer and his nose is turning red. “You text me constantly and you want me to go with you everywhere–”</p><p>Jisung laughs. “Oh shit, sorry for behaving like a friend!” The cold bottle is making his hand ache, but he clenches it till his knuckles turn white. His hand throbs in protest.</p><p>Hyunjin’s face twists and Jisung’s heart drops even before he opens his mouth. “Get other fucking friends, Jisung. I’m tired of you wanting me to pick you every time and spend all my time with you and pay attention to you constantly. I. Am. Tired.” Hyunjin is too close and his eyes are wet and bright.</p><p>Jisung can’t process his words, they don’t register. <em>Water is yielding and unyielding at all the right times. </em>Jisung wants to yield and his body’s go to method is to push tears out as if they ever solve anything. He is so angry, but he can’t see because of his tears but he can see Hyunjin’s stricken expression and there is blood roaring in his ears.</p><p>Jisung throws the bottle at the wall near the window. The bird startles, flies away to the nearest branch. It belongs more on the tree than the windowsill  that is attached to an ugly window looking into an ugly scene.</p><p>His anger vanishes the instant the bottle leaves his hand. It leaves hollow shame behind that constricts his sides like a snake with unrelenting, painful pressure. He stalks out of the kitchen, pushing away Hyunjin’s grasping arms.</p><p>───────</p><p>Changbin invites him to his birthday party – a lowkey affair, he promises – but Jisung is swamped with work that week. He’d swallowed his pride and humiliation to reach out to the officious couple and they gave him solid work. Bills and rent wait for no man, so he makes his excuses and apologies.</p><p>Hyunjin goes for the party and Jisung writhes in shame at the rush of relief. He doesn’t want to feel this way, but the past few days have been terrible. Jisung and Hyunjin orbit around each other without ever intersecting and there’s a heavy, repressive weight in the air. Of course, Hyunjin gets a break right when it is most inconvenient. Jisung just wants to walk to the kitchen in peace without having to battle rising rage, damn it. </p><p>So yes, Jisung is on the couch at three o’clock in the morning, bowl of food balanced on his stomach and with his phone in hand. He’s scrolling through the photos on a social media app and there’s that familiar hollow feeling in his stomach, that sensation of his mood sinking lower and lower. There’s no reason for him to do this, but he’s too exhausted to do anything but scroll.</p><p>Jeongin has uploaded photos. Chan, Hyunjin and Changbin beam at the camera, looking half drunk. There are a few other people there whom Jisung doesn’t recognise. Jisung keeps scrolling, taking in the curated slices of other people’s lives. They’re all people from college, all people he has lost touch with. Their life seems to have unfolded in a burst of colour and then there’s Jisung who is...stuck.</p><p>He shifts uncomfortably. Minho has posted a birthday wish for Changbin; a long, heartfelt message and a collection of photos with him. Jisung still follows him and even likes his posts on occasion. The thing about not having a clean break is that the boundaries are fuzzy. Jisung messages him on birthdays, sometimes even comments on his posts. But they don’t talk. Even though on the whole Jisung’s communication with his friends has reduced a lot, none of his conversations with them are as bland as the ones with Minho. </p><p>“Stop being maudlin,” he grumbles, grabbing the bowl with his free hand and sitting up. Minho and Changbin smirk at him from the screen. </p><p>Jisung is suddenly – too much. He is too much. How can he explain it? How can he explain the inexplicably flat, grayscale and drooping graph of his existence? It wasn’t supposed to be like this, but it is and the quicksand pull of it floods his lungs, drowns him.</p><p>He exhales harshly and gets up. “Fuck this. I’m going to sleep.”</p><p>The flat remains silent as always. </p><p>───────</p><p>A week or so later, Jisung goes to an ice-cream parlour with Jeongin.</p><p>“Changbin hyung was really happy that we could make it,” Jeongin says as they wait behind a couple and their brood of children. “A few of his work friends were there too and they were all nice. Binnie hyung is really popular with them, I think.”</p><p>“That’s Binnie hyung.” Jisung smiles at a baby who is staring at him in shock over her parent’s shoulder. </p><p>“Yeah and the food was amazing,” Jeongin sighs as he shuffles ahead. “Disposable income is so sexy especially if it’s your hyung’s.” He smiles widely at Jisung and Jisung rolls his eyes.</p><p>“Brat.” The baby’s siblings are clustered around the display and are demanding a taste of all the ice creams. The parents glance at Jisung with an embarrassed smile so he shakes his head with what he hopes is a reassuring look. “I know you only hang out with me for my money,” he adds in an undertone.</p><p>Jeongin scoffs. “As if. You forget your wallet half the time. How many times have we paid for you?”</p><p>“Stop telling me the truth!” Jisung feels his pocket to make sure that he is actually carrying his wallet. He is, thank god. Jeongin will never let him live it down if he is wallet-less.</p><p>The children start announcing their orders and a fight breaks out between them. One of them starts wailing. Jisung is glad that he is not a parent if nothing else. He likes kids, but if they did this, he would sit on the floor and cry along with them. </p><p>“So – uh, why aren’t you active on social media, hyung? You haven’t replied to the meme I sent you.” Jeongin tugs at his ear lobe as he darts his gaze away from the rapidly deteriorating situation in front of him. </p><p>“Yeah. I deleted it. It was too distracting.” He’s not going to tell Jeongin about the spiral he had after he went to bed and realised that he had only three friends that he talked to regularly and one of them hated him now. Everyone’s expanding their circle and Jisung doesn’t even have one. He has a triangle.</p><p>“Huh–huh,” Jeongin says, avoiding eye contact as the parent without the baby picks the screaming kid up and storms out of the shop. The baby watches in bewilderment as the rest of them begin to move to the door.</p><p>“So why are you so pale even in summer?” Jeongin says after they get their ice cream. He studies Jisung over his cone, “do you ever go out?”</p><p>“Unlike other weak humans, I’ve evolved to not need Vitamin D.” Jisung bites a chunk of his ice-cream bar and grins when Jeongin grimaces.</p><p>“Or to eat ice-cream like a normal person,” Jeongin mutters.</p><p>Jeongin is sun-bronzed and cheerful. Jisung knows that he looks like a waxy, drooping leaf next to him. He hates going out in the sun and this year the heat is relentless. Jisung has forgone his hoodie today because even the thinnest ones promise to roast him alive. He bites his ice-cream again. </p><p>“Don’t knock it till you try it,” he shrugs. “Are you prepared for college?”</p><p>Jeongin nods. “I pirated all my textbooks and updated my laptop.” He nibbles at the wafer of his cone and then says, “I feel like I am doing a Masters just because I don’t know what to do yet,” in a rush, “and because college feels safer than the,” he makes a face, “real world.”</p><p>Jisung knows nothing of the real world; all he knows is to stagger from one day to another hoping that he doesn’t fall and drown. It is the same as what he did in college. He breathes in the milky sugary smell of the ice-cream parlour, listens to the chatter of kids and lets his stomach drop in resignation. He doesn’t know what to say.</p><p>“It’s a work and study programme, Innie,” he says. Condensation beads on his bar. “You’re getting experience of the real world too.”</p><p>Melted chocolate stains Jeongin’s fingers, but he doesn’t seem to notice. Jisung itches to wipe it away. “But work isn’t the real world,” Jeongin says, his face is still and serious.</p><p>It shocks Jisung when he realises that Jeongin looks – well – like an adult. He touches his own cheek.</p><p>“It is just a part of it,” Jeongin continues, eyes on his cone, lost in thought. “But, I feel like I am not exploring enough. Exploring different things, learning about myself and my role in the world. Work and study isn’t the only thing, I think.”</p><p>Jisung eats his bar because it is threatening to puddle around his fist. They are sitting next to the window and the sun gleams on his forearm, turning the hair golden white. Jeongin looks at him for an answer.</p><p>“But this is also an experience,” Jisung says, “and all new experiences help you grow right?”</p><p>Jeongin frowns but gives a slight nod. “I suppose.”</p><p>“Give it a chance and see what it’s like,” Jisung suggests though Jeongin doesn’t look satisfied.</p><p>“I hope I don’t regret this,” Jeongin says.</p><p>Jisung thinks, <em>there’s no guarantee</em>. But it doesn’t seem like the right thing to say.</p><p>───────</p><p>
  <strong> <em>Excerpt: Untitled Journal Entry</em> </strong>
</p><p>Feuding with your friend is the same as waiting for water to boil. You never quite know when it is about to boil over. Until it does, you tiptoe around, move away but rush back, get disappointed, move away again. You fiddle with the heat, you try to keep it low and constant. You observe any bubbles that rise with interest. Is this it? Yes! You can definitely switch off the gas before it boils over. Then inevitably the water boils over when you’re distracted by how good you are, how responsible and smart. By how easy it is. Like an idiot you’ve let the water boil over even though you were quite alert. Now you end up having to clean the mess.</p><p>
  <strike>And letting emotions boil over isn’t a solution, it doesn’t give you clarity, it does nothing except make things worse</strike>
</p><p>───────</p><p>
  <strong> <em>Excerpt: Email from the landlord</em> </strong>
</p><p><strong>Subject</strong>: Lease Renewal</p><p>This is to bring to your notice that your lease expires on _/10/20__. Kindly inform us about your decision at the earliest so that the formalities can be completed smoothly.</p><p>Thanks and regards,</p><p>Choi T.</p><p>───────</p><p>Jisung bumbles through networking meets, embarrasses himself everywhere, and somehow collects enough contracts to pay his bills. Hyunjin surgically attaches himself to the world beyond the apartment. The heat infuriates Jisung. Jisung spends his days sweating as he types away at the computer and his nights glowering at the oppressive silence in the apartment.</p><p>Then one day, his phone gallery presents him with a curated set of all the cat photos and videos he has collected over the years. Minho smiles at him from most of them, always in frame with his cats.</p><p>He stands up and walks around the room, fingers twitching with the need to do something. He scrolls through the photos and clicks on one. Minho is kissing Soonie’s forehead and she headbutts him. The video ends then moves on to the next one. Even after all this time, he hasn’t cleared the photos and videos from college.</p><p> It’s not a sign, Jisung thinks, but an excuse. The boundaries are fuzzy anyway and what if he wants to do what he should’ve done in his second year?</p><p><em>I’ve got nothing to lose</em>, he tells himself.<em> If he ignores me then fine, but I need to – when things are going wrong, I need to do something right – I miss him – everything is slipping from my hands. </em>Before he can think too much, he opens the messaging app.</p><p>───────</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: Hello, Minho hyung. Long-time no see. I thought I’ll check up on you.</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: [video attached]</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: Also I found this video of kitten Dori that I recorded back then. I thought I’ll send it to you.</p><p>───────</p><p><strong>Minho</strong>: Hi, Jisung! Sorry for replying so late, I’m good. How’re you?</p><p><strong>Minho</strong>: ❤❤ Sometimes I forget how small she was!</p><p><strong>Minho</strong>: When did you get this video though? I don’t remember it?</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: Hyung, why did you text me at 3 A.M. :O</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: It’s from when we visited your home for your birthday remember?</p><p><strong>Minho</strong>: I am in the US at the moment.</p><p><strong>Minho</strong>: Ah shit, I’m texting you at 1 A.M, aren’t I?</p><p><strong>Minho</strong>: Oh yes, I remember. You and the others turned up because you all missed me since I was celebrating at home.</p><p><strong>Minho</strong>: Good days.</p><p>───────</p><p><em>Once we could just show up at your home</em>, Jisung thinks. He decides to reply later in the morning. He’s being too dramatic right now.</p><p>The stars glow on his ceiling, unbothered by the momentous occasion of Jisung having texted Minho. Nor are they bothered by the impending lease renewal. They just continue to shine as Jisung wallows underneath them.</p><p> He’s sure that Hyunjin has also received the email, but a couple of days have passed and Hyunjin still hasn’t broached the topic. Jisung refuses to be the first one to talk about it. It’s Hyunjin who fought with him and even though it sounds childish, he should be the one to start an uncomfortable conversation.</p><p>He rolls to his side, closes his eyes. The burning neon colour of the stars twinkle behind his eyelids. With his ear pressed to his bicep, he can hear the thundering beat of his heart. As he drags the blanket over his head and sticks one leg out, the small kernel of fear unfurls. <em>Even though stars look small in the sky, they’re massive, incandescent, and will definitely fuck you up</em>. </p><p>Jisung doesn’t want to approach the topic because he fears what Hyunjin’s answer will be. </p><p>───────</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: can you ask hyunjin if he’s going to move out or whatever</p><p><strong>Felix</strong>: why don’t you do it?</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: pick an option:</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: a) we’ve been at odds since like april</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: b) he’s a dick</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: c) i am tired</p><p><strong>Felix</strong>:  how about d) you should ask him</p><p>───────</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: So what do you do these days, hyung?</p><p><strong>Minho</strong>: Same old, same old.  I’m working on the same project for our company’s charity wing</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: Yeah! I remember your project. That’s great</p><p><strong>Minho</strong>: How are you Jisung?</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: Going good. I am finally settling in as a freelance content writer</p><p><strong>Minho</strong>: That’s great!</p><p>───────</p><p>Jisung grips the phone tighter and tries to focus on the words on his screen. They swim and blur in front of his eyes without leaving a mark on his mind. He has encamped on the sofa in the living room, and Hyunjin has been pacing for ten minutes now. It is time.</p><p>He wants to puke. His stomach is a heaving, shifting, roiling muddle. It is night time and there is a cool wind whistling through the trees outside. All the lights are burning in the apartment and Jisung feels flayed. Exposed. The walls press on Jisung. Hyunjin goes into the kitchen, opens the fridge, shuts it and rattles around, inspecting the cabinets.</p><p><em>I’ll do anything to not be here, </em>Jisung thinks. He stays put, however, he needs to know the answer. His thumb finds his index finger.</p><p>Hyunjin enters the living room again. Out of the corner of his eye, Jisung sees him stop half foot away from the sofa. He braces himself for an argument and raises his head.</p><p>“I’m going to move out,” Hyunjin says. He is wearing a fuzzy headband and his expression is shuttered. Cold. Jisung had bought that hairband for him and he had never had Hyunjin look at him that way.</p><p>Jisung’s mind blanks to static for a second, but then anger clears his mind, settles on him, sparks at the ends of every jittery nerve. He waits for Hyunjin to continue, but he just stands there, silent. Jisung snorts. “Wow! So you’re just going to run away?” He stands up and as his legs cover the distance between him and Hyunjin, realisation of the gulf he is facing dawns upon him.</p><p>Hyunjin sighs as if he has a great burden thrust upon his shoulders and hunches into himself. Jisung is annoyed by the way Hyunjin still looms over him. “This roommate thing is not working out, Jisung and the lease ends soon. I think if we need to salvage whatever friendship we have left, we need to move away from each other.”</p><p>“You don’t even want to talk now?” Jisung asks even as an ugly, ugly relief swarms over him at the thought of being away from Hyunjin. Being away from this shit-show that was never supposed to happen.</p><p>Hyunjin crosses his arms. He resembles a sad, folded umbrella. Jisung wants to laugh at the image but his mind is going round and round in circles the way it does when an argument isn’t going his way. Which is always. Does anything ever go his way –</p><p>“Every time we talk you just storm away,” Hyunjin says quietly. His eyes are trained on the ground.</p><p>“Yeah because you call me a leech,” Jisung says and his voice sounds high and thin. This is the point where they start yelling, usually, but he has no strength. He rubs the side of his neck. “And that you can’t stand me.”</p><p>Much to Jisung’s surprise, Hyunjin doesn’t shout, but simply says, “at this point you just want to misunderstand what I am saying. And you say a lot of things too, so don’t put it all on me.”</p><p>And it is true. Jisung had said a lot of things. If Hyunjin had yelled, perhaps, Jisung would’ve been spurred to action. But this calm, indifferent front makes his throat tighten. His breath shudders in his chest. His eyes are wet. Anger deserts him. Maybe it was never there, maybe it was just a desperate kind of woundedness. He thinks of his first semester and his dorm room. The back of his phone is slick and hot in his palm.</p><p>“I think we need to get away from each other before this becomes toxic,” Hyunjin says.</p><p>Jisung takes a short, shaky breath. “Fuck this.” He turns on his heel and marches to the bedroom.</p><p> </p><p>───────</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: [image attached]</p><p><strong>Minho</strong>: <strong>😂😂</strong></p><p>───────</p><p><strong>Jisung: </strong>[video attached]</p><p><strong>Minho</strong>: That cat’s cute as hell!</p><p>───────</p><p>“I’m talking to Minho again.” Jisung flips Lock’s ear inside out. Lock raises her head from Jisung’s lap, shakes her head and yawns at Jisung’s face. “Wow, poison breath much?” Jisung complains. Lock rests her head back on Jisung’s lap.</p><p>Felix pats Lock’s head. “He probably smelled himself, darling. Don’t worry, your breath doesn’t smell.” Lock’s tail thumps on the couch.</p><p>“I showered right before I came here,” Jisung mutters. Lock licks his hand in commiseration as if she isn’t the instigator of this argument.</p><p>Felix shrugs. “We can’t smell ourselves, can we? Anyway, you were saying that you are talking to Minho again.” He squishes himself into the space that is still left on the couch.</p><p>“I just texted recently…” he grimaces, “it is super awkward.” He sighs, strokes the space between Lock’s ears. Her golden fur slips like silk between his fingers.  “It's just weird how difficult it is to talk to him after the way we were in college.”</p><p>“Is this the first time you’re speaking to him properly after the… confession?” Felix asks. He buries his hand in the fur on Lock’s back. His fingers nearly disappear.</p><p>Jisung has always noticed how his friends refer to that particular disaster as ‘the confession’ instead of ‘your confession.’ It is a sweet thought, but it does not extinguish the roiling shame and horror. Would a rose be as sweet if called by another name? Yes. The same principle applies to his confession.</p><p>“No, I mean – we talked about casual stuff like ‘ooh nice photo’ or ‘happy birthday’ but all conversation just fell through,” Jisung shrugs. Lock jumps off the couch, shakes herself vigorously and strides to her bed. Jisung throws his feet on Felix’s lap. “I don’t know what I am doing.”</p><p>Felix tilts his head, considering Jisung. Jisung knows that he looks like shit, sleeplessness and late night snacks wreaking havoc on his face. His limbs are weighted down with exhaustion and are too tight at the joints. He digs his thumb into his index finger.</p><p>“I don’t talk much to Seungmin anymore,” Felix says. There’s something solemn about the room now; a penitentiary for two people who stopped speaking to friends, who let time do what it always does: blur and smoothen the bright, the sharp and the warm. <em>Time and tide give no shits</em>, Jisung thinks, and unlike King Canute, there’s no one to cheer his realisation.</p><p>“Like, we were pretty close, but we just lost touch, I guess,” Felix continues. “I think he has forgotten his own name with how busy he is. I speak to Chan hyung often and sometimes to Changbin and Minho hyung,” he rubs his chin. “Apart from you, Jeongin and Hyunjin, I’m closer to my post grad friends now.” He looks away, stares at Lock.</p><p>Jisung looks at Lock, too. Her fur is splayed all over the bed and she is kicking her paws as she dreams. She occupies her space in this house thoroughly in the way dogs do. With contentment and excitement.</p><p>“I’m on the same boat,” Jisung says after a moment of silence. <em>I let it happen because I did nothing when I had time. </em>“Except for the fact that Hyunjin has decided to stop speaking to me.”</p><p>“I’m not getting involved in your fight,” Felix says immediately. “Don’t start bad mouthing him, Jisungie.”</p><p>Jisung huffs. “I wasn’t going to.” He crosses his arms, glares at the ceiling to hide the sudden burn in his eyes. “Everything sucks right now.”</p><p>Felix squeezes his ankle. “You’ll get through this.”</p><p>───────</p><p><strong>Minho</strong>: How’s work?</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: It’s going pretty well. My clients are not being dicks right now</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: So I am happy. Why do only entitled old people have money 😓</p><p><strong>Minho</strong>: I’m honestly so done with old people who think they can do anything 😤😤😤</p><p><strong>Minho</strong>: Just because they’re older and have more money or whatever</p><p><strong>Minho</strong>: The entitielmet is off the charts</p><p><strong>Minho</strong>: entitlement*</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: !!!</p><p>───────</p><p><strong>Seungmin</strong>: Minho hyung told me that you’re texting him</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: yeah?</p><p><strong>Seungmin</strong>: You just dropped in out of nowhere after years of nothing</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: it’s not been years</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: i talk to him pretty often</p><p><strong>Seungmin</strong>: Look, you’re both my friends, but don’t just drop him again</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: I think you should stop?</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: If he doesn’t want to talk to me, he can text me himself.</p><p><strong>Seungmin</strong>: I am just looking out for you bth</p><p><strong>Seungmin</strong>: both*</p><p>───────</p><p>Jisung goes to a café and stays there from morning till evening. Hyunjin brought his partner over to the flat to help him pack, and Jisung had beaten a hasty retreat after asking whether he needed help for courtesy’s sake.</p><p>The café is humming with people who are all enjoying their weekend. Their chatter is loud enough to drown out the low music droning in the background. Jisung stews in frustration as he tries to rewrite an article that his client is unhappy with. He sips his drink and glowers at a group of shoppers as they gasp over something.</p><p>Jisung opens his messaging app and replies to a couple of messages. He puts his phone away and rests his fingers on his keyboard as he prays for enough strength to revise an article on ‘top ten ways to fold napkins to impress guests.’</p><p>Out of the corner of his eyes, he sees his phone light up. He snatches it even before the screen can go back to sleep, glad for the distraction. Maybe he should invest in one of those productivity apps. His stomach drops when he sees the text preview.</p><p><strong>Minho</strong>: Don’t get me wrong, but I can’t help but wonder about your sudden interest in talking again</p><p><strong>Minho</strong>: I am a bit drunk, but yeah</p><p><strong>Minho</strong>: You were never so insistent before</p><p>Jisung’s entire body plunges into cold water. His stomach swoops and his breath refuses to leave his lungs. Overhead, the song changes to something soft and twanging, and a man cackles somewhere near the front of the shop. <em>Shit</em>.</p><p>Jisung stares at the message. The characters are the same. A flare of irritation bubbles as he considers if Seungmin put Minho up to this. But, no. <em>Take some accountability, Jisung, you quivering quokka.</em></p><p>The phone buzzes with a call from Minho. Jisung drops the phone on the table, tucks his hands near his collarbone and bites his lips as he stares with horror at the buzzing phone. The caller id reads: <em>Minhooo Hyungiee</em></p><p>The phone begins its second round of buzzing, and Jisung accepts the call with nary a breath leaving him. “Hello,” he whispers. He fumbles for his earphones with his other hand.</p><p>“’Lo,” Minho says loudly. His voice is nested in a muted, thumping beat of music. “Han Jisung, you have some answers to give me.”</p><p>“Yeah, I–” Jisung attaches the earphones to his phone, and tries to unknot the wires with desperate fingers, “wait!” he says into the microphone. He manages to free one bud and shoves it into his ear. “Yes, okay, I am back.”</p><p>Minho snorts. “Well? I asked you a question,” he says. Jisung cannot detect any slurring in his speech, but he never sounds so belligerent usually. <em>You don’t know his usual anymore</em>, he reminds himself, heart clenching.</p><p>“Um, well,” Jisung begins and then pauses. He darts a glance at the people around him, but their gazes flit past him as if he isn’t even there. “I just thought – that I should talk to you.” <em>I thought I got a sign. Or an excuse. Yes, I am that sad.</em> “It’s been so long since we spoke properly.”</p><p>Jisung can hear the hubbub of people on Minho’s side. That too, is a cheerful, celebratory noise. How strange to talk to each other when they’re both almost swallowed by a crowd.</p><p>“I wonder why,” Minho says and the words are more of a hiss than speech. Horns of a car on a journey in another country drift to Jisung. Minho sighs, or so Jisung thinks. “I don’t know, Jisung. I don’t know.”</p><p>“I am sorry,” Jisung whispers, staring hard at his laptop screen. Tears gather behind his eyes and he thinks of sitting on Minho’s floor and confessing to him like a fool. “I was so embarrassed. I didn’t know what to do.”</p><p>Minho is silent. Jisung releases his forefinger from the stinging grip of his thumb. Drags it across the dust on the number pad on his keyboard. “I should’ve been,” he breathes out a shuddering breath, “more mature, but I wasn’t and I was so scared that I let one of my most – most important friendships go.”</p><p>“If it was so important you would’ve known that I wouldn’t have embarrassed you or humiliated you. I just wanted to tell you that your feelings were okay. Nothing had to change.” It seems rehearsed, like Minho had thought about this for long.</p><p><em>That’s the problem. Nothing could change and I couldn’t change at that point either.</em> “I was dumb, I thought that saving myself from humiliation of my,” he grimaces, “…of my feelings was the most important thing, but now I know better.”</p><p>Minho sighs. It is definitely an annoyed one. “What do you want, Jisung?”</p><p>“I want to be–” <em>Friends. Closer than we are now. Like we were before. No, no, no. </em>“A better friend. I am sorry, hyung.”</p><p>“I’ll think about it,” Minho says. “I have to go now.”</p><p>Jisung closes his eyes, feels their burn intensify. “Okay.”</p><p>Minho cuts the call.</p><p>Jisung takes in a ragged breath, puts his phone away. Types: swan fold.</p><p>───────</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: Seungmin I spoke to Minho hyung</p><p><strong>Seungmin</strong>: Good good</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: I know I was a dick and I am sorry for being rude </p><p><strong>Seungmin</strong>: Hey it’s alright I guess I was crossing limits too</p><p><strong>Seungmin</strong>: The only reason I said that stuff was because things change and I didn’t want you to get hurt because you expected things to be the same or whatever</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: i know. everything has changed</p><p>───────</p><p>
  <strong>section vi: the longest weeks</strong>
</p><p><strong>Changbin</strong>: hey jisungiee!</p><p><strong>Changbin</strong>: long time no see </p><p><strong>Changbin</strong>: should’ve ditched work and come for my part haha</p><p><strong>Changbin</strong>: well i’ve been super busy. OH and i moved in with Channie hyung</p><p><strong>Changbin</strong>: come say hi someday yeah</p><p>───────</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: did you know???</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: chan hyung and changbin hyungs are roomies now??</p><p><strong>Jeongin</strong>: oh yeah, sorry hyung</p><p><strong>Jeongin</strong>: slipped my mind</p><p>───────</p><p><strong>Minho</strong>: [image attached]</p><p><strong>Minho</strong>: (Just reply to the meme. But let us continue texting. And I am sorry for being so harsh the other day)</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: 😂 😂</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: me!</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: (It’s ok. And thank you.)</p><p>───────</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: that’s great to hear hyung</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: how’s living with chan hyung?</p><p><strong>Changbin</strong>: Good good…</p><p><strong>Changbin</strong>: I kinda wasn’t expecting this and it’s been great!!</p><p>───────</p><p>
  <strong> <em>Excerpt: Email from Minho</em> </strong>
</p><p><strong>Subject</strong>: <strong>Forward</strong>: Webinar on dance based programme for youth empowerment</p><p>Hey!</p><p>I am going to be one of the speakers. I am terrible at this but desperate times call for desperate measures. Never thought I’ll be Lee Minho, Certified Desperate Measure tee-em, one day, but who can foresee the future? Anyway, do attend it if you can/ and are interested in it! At the very least you’ll see Minho hyung make a fool of himself. A good incentive isn’t it?</p><p>Thanks and Regards,</p><p>Lee Minho</p><p>───────</p><p>Jisung’s heart beats harder with every ring, and plummets when the line connects and Minho says, “Hello.”</p><p>Jisung breathes, strangely overwhelmed even though he is just speaking to Minho. “Hey, hyung.”</p><p>“Isn’t it late there?” Minho asks. “Is something wrong?”</p><p>“No, no, I just finished watching your talk and um – I thought I should call you.” Jisung rubs his calf with the opposite foot. The toe of his sock is barren, and his nail scratches against his calf. He uses it to ground himself against the rising tide of foolishness. “You were so good, hyung, it was such a great talk.”</p><p>“Yeah?” Minho sounds pleased, but Jisung detects an undercurrent of doubt. <em>What is the call for?</em> seems to the question Minho wants to ask, but he says, “Thank you.”</p><p>Jisung doesn’t know why he called. How can he explain that it was disquieting and exhilarating to see Minho in a crisp button-up, sitting in a sleek office and explaining his philanthropic project? That he wanted to call to find out for himself if it was indeed the same Minho hyung he has been texting lately.</p><p>The familiar in an unfamiliar setting. No. The familiar with unfamiliar aspects.</p><p>“You looked so different,” he says before he can stop himself. “So, um… profesh and cool.”</p><p>Minho chuckles, the sound of it so familiar that Jisung is startled. Jisung digs his toe into his calf. “That’s just me <em>trying</em> to be profesh and cool,” Minho says, a bit of his stiltedness melting away. “Can’t believe I fooled you, Jisung, you should’ve seen through it.”</p><p>Then there’s that sudden awkward stillness, a suctioning of all comfort from the atmosphere. It is the silence that occurs when something that is not to be revealed is out in the open. Quite like the polite averting of eyes when the magician’s trick is obvious. An understanding before it is time to understand.</p><p><em>Are we the same? I shouldn’t have said that. I shouldn’t have called. Too soon, too soon, too soon</em>.</p><p>The unsaid that has been said. The said cannot be unsaid, he thinks a little hysterically. </p><p>He pulls his focus back to the call. “I guess my eyesight has been getting worse as I age,” Jisung jokes. “But, I also thought that Seungmin finally managed to convert you to his brand of professionalism.”</p><p>“Do you know that Seungmin is banned from wearing professional clothes in office?” Minho says, conspiratorially.</p><p>“What? How?” Jisung gasps.</p><p>“I pulled the ‘I am the boss’ card and made him buy coffee for all of us if he turned up in anything that I deemed formal,” Minho laughs, “the amount of free coffees I managed to get still surprises me.”</p><p>Jisung laughs. “Don’t make the mistake of thinking you got one over him. He has just chosen to go along with your scheme at the moment.”</p><p>“Seungmin will love hearing this.”</p><p>When the call ends, Jisung makes a note of the call duration. 3:03.</p><p>───────</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: what’s it like not being able to wear a suit and tie</p><p><strong>Seungmin</strong>: it’s like being able to wear casual clothes</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: …</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: go to the corner and think about yur joke</p><p><strong>Seungmin</strong>: 😂😂</p><p>───────</p><p>The first thing they (unknown, presumably important) tell you about becoming a freelancer is:</p><p>-       Have a fixed schedule</p><p>-       Have a designated working space.</p><p>Jisung doesn’t have either. He plays fast and loose with this entire freelancing thing which is probably why his business is still in the ‘struggling’ category, but that’s beside the point. The point is that he should’ve read the brochure for this networking meet thoroughly because this is a nightmare.</p><p>To begin with, the meeting is held outdoors – Jisung wouldn’t have minded that much had it not been, you know, the middle of summer – and he has dressed in formal wear. Everyone else is dressed casually. This is the number two on his list of nightmares: standing out for all the wrong reasons. </p><p>Jisung wants to turn around and keep marching until he reaches the metro, but he has already paid so he smiles at the person manning the registration table.</p><p>“Here’s a name tag,” a woman says and hands a piece of blank paper and a pen. “You have to pick a vegetable that describes you the best. Then you’ll be asked to team up with people who chose the same type of vegetable as you. Hope this meeting is useful!”</p><p>Jisung pins the name tag (potato) to his chest. The meeting has not yet started, so he skirts around the edges of groups, picking out people whom he can talk to later. He ignores the glances people throw towards his white shirt and khaki trousers, and the profuse amount of sweat his glands are pumping out in spite of the fact that he never hydrates properly.</p><p>Then, the scourge of mankind;  the first thing that flew out of Pandora's box; the thing that feeds off human misery, is unleashed by the organizers. <em>Ice-breakers.</em></p><p>Jisung is part of the roots (and tubers) team since he chose potato as his spirit vegetable. At least, he hopes he is. Turns out that he is right, because he is in the team with four other potatoes. The other members are two carrots and one beetroot. There’s a ginger there as well and Jisung watches with bemusement as two potatoes and one carrot argue with ginger about whether or not he can be a part of their team since he’s technically a spice and not a vegetable.</p><p>Beetroot looks at him with a raised brow. Jisung’s brows are already touching his hairline so he offers a shrug. He should’ve left the moment he had the chance, but has he ever made one good decision in his life? The answer to that saddens him. He stands with his hand in his pockets and zones out from the ongoing debate.</p><p>“Alright!” The emcee crows from the stage and a staggering high pitched noise blares from the speakers. “Oops, sorry.” She taps the mic and there’s another screech. Jisung claps his hands over his ears and wonders how he manages to find himself in such miserable situations.</p><p>“Right! Welcome everyone!” the emcee says and then rattles off an introductory speech. Welcome, thank you, thank you, organizers brilliant, money brilliant, entrepreneurial scene growing fast, networks are the backbone of success, blah, blah. “So before we begin this event in earnest, let’s get to know each other in a fun way! Explain to your group why you associate yourself with the vegetable that you’ve chosen.”</p><p><em>I’m round and full of carbs</em>, Jisung thinks,<em> I am potato</em>.</p><p>“Ginger has healing benefits and it is very versatile,” Ginger says, “as someone in the healthcare field, I thought it would be fitting. ‘Sides, I love a good ginger chai tea.”</p><p>Beetroot makes an annoyed noise. “Chai <em>is </em>tea. What’s it with being redundant all the time?”</p><p><em>Suffering is redundant, yet we do it everyday</em>. Jisung rubs his temple as his head starts twinging.</p><p>“Maybe people don’t know that,” Ginger shrugs, “hey, Carrot, why did you choose carrot? Ha! Like bunnies, or what?”</p><p>“Carrots actually aren’t good for rabbits,” Jisung blurts before he can stop himself, “it has too much sugar.”</p><p>“Well, it isn’t about rabbits,” Carrot says, looking irritated. “Carrots are a symbol of good health and since I’m –”</p><p>Then the <em>actual </em>nightmare begins and Jisung really, really wants to cry. Some ‘industry veterans’ are called upon to offer their insight, and turns out that the things they recommend are things Jisung doesn’t do, and the things they warn against are the things he does.</p><p>“If you don’t treat it like a job then it’s not a job, is it?” one of the experts says. “You can’t expect to be successful if you don’t take the efforts to make it a proper job.”</p><p>It shouldn’t matter; it doesn’t matter. “I see a lot of young folks burning out because they don’t have a blueprint. You need to <em>plan </em>and not just chase money.”</p><p>How many such meetings has Jisung been to before where the same narrative gets repeated each time? How many times has Jisung mentally checked out and come out from those meetings unscathed?  But then, those aren’t the correct questions, because he knows why this is hitting him hard.</p><p>This is heaping coal into a fire that was lit weeks back by that couple. The kindling for which was prepared by Jisung himself.</p><p>He wipes his brow and grimaces because his bare arm gleams with moisture. He wishes he had not worn short sleeves because his arms are radiating heat. He wishes for a lot of things. Out of the corner of his eyes, he sees one of the Carrots offer him a tissue.</p><p>“Thanks,” he mumbles, neck heating at the concerned look Carrot gives him with her eyes fixed on his face.</p><p>“Upskilling is a definite must,” the other expert says. The speakers whine, and the sound echoes in the dead summer air. “Ah, sorry, sorry. Anyway, if you don’t keep upgrading your skills then I am afraid you’ll not be able find a niche.”</p><p>Jisung crumples the tissue in his fist. Sweat is starting to bead again on his damp skin. His CV flashes before his eyes, with barely any additions made after he graduated. Panic bubbles in his throat, and he resists the urge to check his bank balance.</p><p>The speakers crackle and go silent. There is a flurry of movement near the stage. Jisung breathes slowly through his nose to settle the churning in his stomach. He feels like vomiting, but it could be the heat. Which means he needs to leave.</p><p>People glance at him as he weaves his way through the rows of chairs. His legs move as if he is wading through tar and his back is burning. But it is the sudden inexplicable fear that is difficult to manage, and it tears its way through his limbs and his core, leaving a trail of icy froth in his veins.</p><p>The journey back to his apartment registers in his brain only in flashes, like a montage. The bang of the door echoes in the silent apartment. It is cool inside because the curtains are drawn and the darkness makes Jisung’s vision go gray for a minute. He stumbles to the fridge to get cold water.</p><p>There is no stutter of relief in his breath, just shallow, fast inhales and exhales. He unbuttons his shirt and flicks on the fan. There’s a cardboard box in the living room with a note that says: ‘Doyeon’s Things. Will be storing some things here till we can move to the new apt. Thanks, Hyunjin.’</p><p>An apartment that is a house for Jisung has become a storage space for his friend. <em>What happened to taking over the world together</em>, he thinks, bitterly. He takes off his undershirt and wipes his face with it as he goes to his room. Hyunjin’s door is open, but there are only stacks of boxes there.</p><p>He glances at his reflection as he washes his hands. His hair is matted and plastered to his forehead and his face is flushed red. The bags under his eyes are so pronounced that it looks like he has smeared kohl under it. He turns his attention to the water that is flowing through the gaps between his fingers. </p><p>He takes out his lenses, his belt, and his trousers then curls up on the bed and prays that sleep deadens this sensation of spilling out of his own body.</p><p>───────</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: do you do ice-breakers in your taining programme</p><p><strong>Minho</strong>: Yeah. That’s what we begin with</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: you’re perpetuating torture. icebreakers are the scourge of mankind</p><p><strong>Minho</strong>: They have their uses</p><p><strong>Minho</strong>: But I am guessing there’s a story behind your strong feelings 😂😂</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: today one of the ice breakers was to pick the kind of vegetable you are and then give reasons as to why you chose it (◑_◑)</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: we were divided into groups based on vegetable types. and the potatoes in my group were like,, i am versatile or i am well loved! (🤮) or always helpful to have around</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: and i chose potato because i am …</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: couch potat  (•◡•) /</p><p><strong>Minho</strong>: 👏 👏</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: (and i kinda remembered your short story)</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: and then i got a heatstroke or somrthing</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: everything was terrible</p><p><strong>Minho</strong>: Drink ORS!!</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: yeah but i drank a lot of water, i’m better now</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: sometimes life sucks hyung</p><p><strong>Minho</strong>: That it does</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: so i’m getting fried chicken and beer to restore my health \ (•◡•) /</p><p>───────</p><p>
  <strong> <em>Excerpt: Untitled Journal Entry</em> </strong>
</p><p>Turns out physical closeness can destroy psychological closeness. There is some truth to ‘familiarity breeds contempt’ after all, but I wish it wasn’t me who had to experience the truth of this statement.</p><p>What I don’t understand is space. How the space you occupy, the space you use, the space you create changes everything, determines everything. I always seem to be groping blindly while others seem to have a lodestar guiding them at all times. I want something to guide me too.</p><p>───────</p><p>“Was I a terrible roommate?” Jisung asks.</p><p>Lock sniffs at Jisung’s finger and gives them an affectionate lick even though he is probably disappointing her with the lack of crumbs. He pats her nose. She licks her nose. Warmth blooms and radiates in the soft little waves.</p><p>“You were fine,” Felix says, mouth full of cupcake. He grimaces a moment later, “these are so shit, Jisung.”</p><p>“Your face is shit,” Jisung counters and takes a swig from the protein shaker. “I followed your instructions by the way, so that means your patented cupcakes are shit.”</p><p>“Goldilocks, no!” Felix says when Lock gets too close to his cupcakes. “Go to bed, this gathering is for adults only.”</p><p>“Gathering,” Jisung snorts.</p><p>“I have to deal with you and your angst. That makes three of us, so it’s a gathering,” Felix says as he hustles Lock out of the room. He shuts the door with a slam and shuffles over to Jisung. “Now that Lock is locked out,” he smiles, “let loose your woes!” he says in English.</p><p>Jisung stews in the toxic fumes of cheap, shitty rum – is it sad that he has not upgraded the alcohol he consumes after college? – for a couple of minutes before he responds. He isn’t drunk enough to whine without shame and Felix isn’t high enough to refrain from using logic. “That sounds like we’re going to have a heart to heart about bowel movements,” he says.</p><p>Felix laughs. “The universe’s bowel movements are what we call life.”</p><p>Jisung snorts and Felix looks so pleased with himself that Jisung reaches out and pokes his cheek. “You’re cute!”</p><p>“I know,” Felix says and winks.</p><p>Jisung rolls his eyes. They fall silent after that. Jisung takes a mouthful but misjudges the quantity and nearly chokes, trying to get it through his throat. Felix takes a photo of him hacking his lungs out, and then eats his cupcake after scraping off the frosting. So, that was the problem then. Now that he thinks about it, he doesn’t remember adding sugar.</p><p>“I don’t understand what I did wrong,” Jisung says after Felix continues to stare at him with soft, understanding puppy eyes. It is a look he has seen so many times. Especially over the screen of his laptop as he ranted about an assignment that pushed him closer to a breakdown. </p><p>Felix nods in encouragement.</p><p>“I was a pretty decent roommate, I think. I did all the chores in time – not immediately but well before it became a mess. I was quiet and I respected his boundaries,” he sighed, “but apparently I was a millstone around his neck.”</p><p>“He seemed to think that you didn’t respect his boundaries,” Felix points out, “He seemed to think that you don’t give him enough space–” and Jisung knows that this is going to end badly.</p><p>He puts aside the protein shaker. He breathes, but it is like dragging a knotted rope through the circle of his fist: it catches and scratches.</p><p>“Jisung? I really think you should talk to Hyunjin and figure out why he feels that way.”</p><p>Jisung realises that Felix had continued speaking long after he had checked out. “I think we should stop talking about this.” He digs his thumb into his forefinger, tries to quell the roaring in his ears.</p><p>Felix’s brows crease. “What? Why?”</p><p>“I think we should stop talking about this before I lose my temper at your sudden inability to be supportive.”</p><p>Felix shifts, folds his legs underneath him. Jisung watches every moment like a hawk to keep the tendrils of anger at bay, to divert his attention from the sinkhole in his chest.</p><p>“I am trying to be supportive,” Felix insists and that strikes the match.</p><p>Jisung imagines a gauge suspended in black ether, its needle creeping to the other side, the wrong side. <em>Combustion, imminent</em>. “Really? You think being neutral is supportive?” he can’t think anymore, he can’t identify his thoughts, his mouth moves by itself and all Jisung can do is glare.</p><p>“I’m just pointing out that you both need to work this out, Hyunjin–”</p><p>“Yes! That’s the problem!” Jisung jabs the air between them with the protein shaker. “It’s always Hyunjin this and Hyunjin that–”</p><p>“You’re both my friends. I can’t pick sides, Jisung,” Felix’s bottom lip is wobbling and that is when Jisung notices that his own vision is blurry and his breath is hitching. “I don’t know what to do when my two best friends are fighting.”</p><p>Best friends. Jisung rolls his eyes and those treacherous fucking tears spill over, roll down his cheeks. He swipes them away, stands up. “Hyunjin has picked sides,” he says through gritted teeth. He exhales sharply and there’s a spray of phlegm. Fuck. Disgusting.</p><p>“Maybe you could talk–”</p><p>Jisung stumbles out of the door, makes a beeline to the couch. Lock raises her head, her ears pricking when she sees Jisung move towards her. He picks up his bag, and ignores Lock licking his forearm. His hands tremble as he unlocks his phone.</p><p>“Jisung! Come on,” Felix says. “You’re being ridiculous.”</p><p>“Yeah, I am,” Jisung doesn’t look at Felix as he scrolls through the ride-sharing app. “Maybe I should just get friends of my own. That’s the issue right? Poor fucking Jisung is a loner and he has no friends because he always sits at home.”</p><p>Felix sighs. “I don’t know what to say when you’re like this.”</p><p>“Goodbye,” Jisung snaps and he storms to the door. His bag slips off his shoulder and he nearly brains his head getting his shoes on. Felix is silent, but Lock comes to oversee his departure. He ignores the both of them and leaves.</p><p>───────</p><p><strong>Felix</strong>: did you reach home?</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: yes</p><p><strong>Felix</strong>: ok so…</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: stop typing your long ass message, i don’t want to hear it.</p><p><strong>Felix</strong>: listen i’m just going to tell you what you need to know. if hyunjin is so angry then there is an issue there and you need to hear his side, jisung and yes he needs to do it too, but you need to talk for that</p><p>───────</p><p><strong>Minho</strong>: [image attached]</p><p><strong>Minho</strong>: I was buying bread and this little one bumped her tiny head against my leg four times! 😭😭😭</p><p><strong>Minho</strong>: I didn’t want to get attached cause foreign country and all that, but really I am powerless</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: cat related heartbreaks are the worst, hyung. be warned</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: also, c u t e</p><p><strong>Minho</strong>: Warnings are incapable of stopping the course of love 🤠 </p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: true</p><p>───────</p><p>
  <strong> <em>Excerpt: Untitled Journal Entry</em> </strong>
</p><p>I prefer the… adage? term? quote? saying? The past intertwines with the present instead of the more commonly known ‘you reap what you sow’. The reason is this: reaping and sowing and all that is cautionary, but my quote is about awareness, it is about being accountable. The way I acted in the past influenced my present and what I am feeling now is the consequence of what I chose to do then. It brings into focus my actions or lack of actions.</p><p>───────</p><p> “You can’t romanticise everything,” his client says, breath wheezing noisily. Jisung grimaces. “I want simple and concise, no flowery bits.”</p><p>Jisung can, in fact, romanticise everything as evidenced by the draft he’d sent to this man, but he picks his battle and says, “I see.”</p><p>“Yeah, like it should hit the spot, ya know. Everything should be clear and simple, but also let them know the beauty of our product,” his voice reflects a smile when he speaks of ‘the product’: a third-rate leadership module.</p><p>The client drones on, and Jisung’s weary ears pick up the highlights and he types them out on his laptop. He’ll send a ‘as discussed’ mail later because he has been burned too many times by clients who call, rattle stuff off and then deny everything when Jisung sends them a draft. Assholes, all of them.</p><p>When the call ends, Jisung sighs and drops his head on the table. His body is sore as if surviving this excruciating call took physical effort and not just mental fortitude. He still has three more calls to make. </p><p>He thinks, <em>I hate my job</em>.</p><p>The realisation is clear and concise. No flowery bits. <em>I hate my job</em> and then, <em>yeah, I do</em>.</p><p>He raises his head, “Guess I’m screwed,” he announces to his empty apartment. The stained walls ponder the statement in silence. <em>All in all you're just another brick in the wall</em>, he sings on the way to his kitchen. He roots around the fridge, finds leftover pizza. He then sits on his sofa and eats it cold while scrolling through his phone. A living, breathing ‘I am dead on the inside’ aesthetic.</p><p>Other than the muted sound of horns and his chewing, there is no noise in the room. The walls and corners scream at him, betraying his loneliness. When someone occupies a given space for a period of time, it takes on signs of life, becomes a material reflection of the life it harbours. Turns out, when a person leaves, the space still holds on to them, still desperately tries to reflect them.</p><p>
  <em>That’s why they do deep cleans, I guess.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I was here, but Jisungie style.</em>
</p><p>“I was here, but Hyunjinnie style,” Jisung says. The dusty square where one of Hyunjin’s prints hung, stares at him. The emptiness that Hyunjin banished, settles around him, right at home. The shoe rack now has space for all his shoes. </p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: hyung, have you ever thought about how we are from different generations? We have an inter-generational gap!!</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: any particular words of wisdom, considering that you’re from an older generation?</p><p><strong>Minho</strong>: Yeah, life sucks ¯\_(ツ)_/¯</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: ouch but i already knew that</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: but like how to deal when life sucks?</p><p><strong>Minho</strong>: Life sucks; suck it up</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: semi-colons and all. i believe you</p><p><strong>Minho</strong>: I actually wish I could say something different, but I don’t know either</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: same but i don’t know, period</p><p><strong>Minho</strong>: Wisdom comes with age ya know</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: :(</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: i would actually give anything to know what this shit is about</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: anyway how’s it going?</p><p>───────</p><p>“Hello?” Jisung says, rubbing his fingertips on a stain on the knee of his sweatpants. “What’s up, hyung?”</p><p>Minho’s voice is dampened by the sound of people’s loud chatter. “You sounded off. I thought I’d check up on you.”</p><p>Jisung presses his phone closer to his ear, straining to hear Minho. There’s a lump in his throat and he takes a second to gather himself. “I was just being… dramatic.”</p><p>“Tell me — everyone — something.” Minho’s voice is lost to the swell of noise behind him.</p><p>“Hyung! I can’t hear you,” Jisung says. “There’s too much noise.”</p><p>“Wait.” </p><p>Minho mutes the call and Jisung picks at the stain. He thinks it's sauce, but it’s difficult to say. Though it is a possibility since he eats so much fried chicken these days. He lowers the phone because it is awkward to hold it to his ear when no one’s speaking. He puts it on speaker and leans against the arm of the couch. He absentmindedly presses his thumb into his forefinger, eyes glazing as he stares at the ‘<em>Minhooo Hyungiee</em>’ on the screen.</p><p>“I’m back,” Minho announces, “people get excited and loud when there’s free food.”</p><p>“I would be too,” Jisung says. “You know, this being alive thing is really putting a dent on my savings.”</p><p>Minho laughs and for a moment it feels like he’s in Minho’s apartment, joking and eating after a long day in college. “I can send you photos if you want. But tell me what’s wrong.”</p><p>Jisung sighs. <em>I hate my job and I don’t know what I am doing.</em> “I don’t know. I guess it's the realisation that –” he licks his lips, “that adulthood isn’t a destination – it’s … I don’t even know... it’s just a series of problems that I don’t have the abilities to handle.”</p><p>“Will it make you feel better if I say that no one knows what they’re doing?” Minho asks. Wherever he is, that place is making his voice echo. </p><p>Jisung wants to laugh but the sound dissipates around the aching lump in his throat. “No. Because then it means that this is what it will feel like forever.”</p><p>Minho is silent. The timer on his phone ticks away. “No one knows what they’re doing, but it’s possible to find happiness amidst all that chaos, too. It’s not an ‘either - or’ kind of thing.”</p><p>Jisung shakes his head even though Minho can’t see him. “I’m not sad – like not <em>sad </em>sad. It’s just that I – I don’t know <em>anything</em>. I’m just there and just – I don’t do anything important. Anything worthwhile.” <em>All I do is fight with my friends and handle shitty clients. </em>“Everyone’s just going onwards and onwards and here I am, not knowing what I should do.”</p><p>“Jisung–”</p><p>Jisung rubs his aching forefinger on his knee. His ears burn when he realises that he has split the seams around his innermost thoughts and they’re spilling out in ugly tufts. “Please, let’s talk about something else. I don’t – I can’t. Not right now.”</p><p>“Okay. But, Jisungie, just know that I’m here, alright? When you want to talk.” </p><p>“Yeah.” Jisung says, “but I’m sorry that I dumped this all on you. Thank you for listening.”</p><p>“No need for thanks,” Minho’s voice is gentle. “Sometimes talking out aloud helps make sense of things.”</p><p><em>If it's above a whisper then it's true</em>. “Yeah. It did help a little… reduced the intensity, I guess.”</p><p>“That’s good.” A pause. “I have a few more minutes. Do you still want to talk?</p><p>“Nah. Go get your free food, hyung.” He ignores the flood of lightness that fills the space between his ribs. His heart does a weird rippling thing.</p><p>“I’m the one paying for it, but alright.”</p><p>───────</p><p>
  <strong> <em>Excerpt: Addendum to Matter and Mattering from First Year</em> </strong>
</p><p>It is better to not be seen, to brushed past and ignored than to be under the spotlight of hungry gazes that smell blood. The blood of a stranger. A stranger who does not belong in the same as the others. It is better to not be in anyone’s memory than to stick around in people’s brain as laughing stock.</p><p>
  <strike>I hate this, I hate this shit, those people are bloody</strike>
</p><p>
  <strike>Fuck, FUCK, FUCK</strike>
</p><p>Life is about drifting from one place to another, hoping that you’ll find one where you belong. Listen, Jisung from First Year of College, nothing is as you think.</p><p>───────</p><p><strong>section vii</strong>: <strong>hideaway/breakaway</strong></p><p>
  <em>September, 20__</em>
</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: channie hyung all the best for the new academic year</p><p><strong>Chan</strong>: ahaha thanks Sungie, I’ll need it for sure</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: how’s it going with ya??</p><p><strong>Chan</strong>: my apartment complex allows pets and I’ve been making so many friends</p><p><strong>Chan</strong>: [image attached]</p><p><strong>Chan</strong>: [image attached]</p><p><strong>Chan</strong>: [image attached]</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: I AM MOVING</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: to your apartment 🏃🏃🏃</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: actually do you know any flats for rent r something??</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: kinda moving out 🥺🥺</p><p><strong>Chan</strong>: Ooh ok, I’ll keep my eyes peeled</p><p>───────</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: all the best innie</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: don’t be afraid of masters</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: make them afraid of you</p><p><strong>Jeongin</strong>: I don’t know how i am going to do that but i’ll try</p><p><strong>Jeongin</strong>: thanks hyung ^.^</p><p>───────</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: Felix, all the best for your first day of Masters</p><p><strong>Felix</strong>: thanks</p><p><strong>Felix</strong>: and pls consider communication you prick</p><p><strong>Felix</strong>: with me </p><p>───────</p><p>Home feels like it belongs to his younger self, and is awaiting the return of Jisung from the past. It feels like it doesn’t quite know what to do with this twenty something caricature in his place.</p><p>His mother and father take turns fretting over him and scolding him. They make all his favourite foods and Jisung eats like a man starved. He smiles at the old aunties and uncles in his neighbourhood. They marvel at how much he has grown – mentally that is, not physically, they titter – and Jisung smiles through gritted teeth. He avoids eye contact with people his age who know him and befriends a stray cat.</p><p>He taps away at his laptop and each word is a scab being pulled when it isn’t ready to fall. Writing wasn’t supposed to be like this, but it is. He answers calls and texts. His stomach always drops when they arrive and relief always courses through him when the call is done. It’s a pendulum that swings between an adrenaline and serotonin rush. All his work is shit.</p><p>Then, on a Saturday morning, he is dozing against one arm of the sofa while his dad leans against the other, reading the newspaper. Jisung is wrapped in a soft blanket that smells like home and is warm from the heat it has leached from him. His dad clears his throat.</p><p>“Planning on waking up anytime soon?”</p><p>“No,” Jisung snuggles deeper into his corner of the couch, “I am going to become one with my blanket.”</p><p>The tap in the kitchen sink is turned on, and his dad turns a page of the newspaper. Young Jisung would’ve contributed to the Saturday morning noises by switching on a documentary channel. Old Jisung doesn’t want to face the day.</p><p>“That’s a great ambition,” Dad says. Jisung doesn’t bother replying.</p><p>He is awake now and the heat of the blanket is too much. He pops his head out of the blanket and finds dad staring at him.</p><p>Jisung raises a brow. “What happened?” He covers his yawn with a hand.</p><p>“Sung-ah, are you happy?”</p><p>The newspaper crinkles as dad shifts to sit facing him. In the kitchen, his mother has moved on to chopping vegetables and he can hear the thud-thudding of the knife hitting the chopping board. “It’s just…you’ve been quiet lately,” Dad’s voice softens after the pause, “we just want to know if everything is alright.”</p><p>His mother is still chopping away in the kitchen and every sentence his dad speaks cleanly severs whatever defences Jisung has. Tears burn in his eyes and his throat aches. He swallows, looks away. Looks away from his dad’s familiar face, from his beard that has never suited him, from the creases on his forehead and near his eyes that scream, <em>please be okay</em>.</p><p>“I’m okay,” he says. “Just, work related stress and all.”</p><p>Dad pats his back. “You can talk to us, alright? We’ll always listen.”</p><p>Jisung thinks about first semester:</p><p>
  <em> Dad, I think my new friends are having a laugh behind my back.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Do you want me to beat them up?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>No, oh my god! Stop being so overprotective. I just want friends. Good friends.</em>
</p><p>Jisung thinks of saying, <em>Dad, I have lost my friends. I don’t know when it happened. They don’t want me. I am lost and I think I made a bad decision and I don’t think I can be an adult.</em></p><p>“Yup! Anyway I’ll go get ready. Five minutes.” He rushes off before his dad can stop him.</p><p>He slams the door behind him and flings himself on his bed. There are stars on his ceiling and they’re pale in the morning light. Jisung rolls onto his stomach and buries his face on a pillow. Only the walls of his room bear witness to his tears.</p><p>───────</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: look at this small cat in the playground near my childhood home</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: [image attached]</p><p><strong>Minho</strong>: You’re at home?</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: [image attached]</p><p><strong>Minho</strong>: Woah, she’s a regal queen! ❤❤</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: yeah i’m at home</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: thought i’d better have a change of scenery</p><p><strong>Minho</strong>: Are you feeling better?</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: yeah yes</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: somewhat</p><p>───────</p><p>
  <strong> <em>Excerpt: Untitled Journal Entry</em> </strong>
</p><p>I’ve been reading poetry lately because I can’t focus on books, or movies, or news because I’m scared and I feel shitty and everything sucks. (<strike>also it’s a chance to be pretentious and like that dark academia or whatever.</strike>) I can just read a poem and be like ah, it sounds good if I don’t understand it. Obviously, poems have meaning, but there’s no expectation from me… I don’t have to do anything except read them one after the other.</p><p>
  <strike>and maybe even if you can’t find answers in others words, maybe you can find comfort and I think what I need more than ever is comfort and a promise that there’s beauty and softness and peace and</strike>
</p><p>
  <em>you are flung on the sand, you are lifted in the crisp sand that drives in the wind. – Hilda Doolittle</em>
</p><p>I remember Minho hyung saying once that searching for answers in the words of others is painful, but for me it’s a comfort. It comforts me to know that someone felt like me and went on to write words that reflect what I’m feeling now. It soothes me to know that what I’m feeling can be put in a sentence and can be read and tucked away to be looked at when I want some warmth on a rainy day. Even if I get the meaning all wrong, it doesn’t change the fact that I too, feel like I’m being flung on the sand. </p><p>───────</p><p><strong>Dad</strong>: Do u want pork or chicken… m at the grocery store</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: pork. can you please get chocolate ice-cream as well? and salt and vinegar chips, and the spicy ones and a couple of chocolate bars</p><p><strong>Dad</strong>: no</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: (ง︡'-'︠)ง</p><p>───────</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: why is making friends as an adult difficult?</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: asking for a friend</p><p><strong>Minho</strong>: I don’t know actually, maybe because priorities change 🤔</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: isn’t it night wherever you are?</p><p><strong>Minho</strong>: Yeah. I can’t sleep</p><p><strong>Minho</strong>: Anyway, I think that it is difficult to make friends through proximity when you’re an adult. And the only people you spend a majority of your time with are your co-workers so I guess it isn’t the same as in school or college. The context is different</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: so sharing the same space helps make friends sometimes, but then sometimes it is the worst thing that can happen. sharing space with someone</p><p><strong>Minho</strong>: Yeah true</p><p><strong>Minho</strong>: But so is constantly changing spaces and not having anyone to share it with. I think there should be some balance</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: do you feel that? that thing about changing spaces constantly??</p><p><strong>Minho</strong>: Sometimes it is difficult especially when I’ll probably be alone on my birthday</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: there’s nothing sacred left (╥﹏╥)</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: sometimes i think adulthood is basically the systematic destruction of everything idyllic and innocent</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: and constant disappointment</p><p><strong>Minho</strong>: Sad but true. But like I said, people are happy even if adulthood is: like that</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: how do you find adulthood hyung?</p><p><strong>Minho</strong>: Well. I’m doing what I wanted to do and I love it</p><p><strong>Minho</strong>: And things are good, really good but I don’t want this to end though that is inevitable though I’m scared of getting stuck in a rut</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: and in your personal life?</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: yeah it’s like i’m bored of the old but scared of the new</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: (me @ me) </p><p><strong>Minho</strong>: I have good friends, I’m surrounded by nice people</p><p><strong>Minho</strong>: Everything in life is scary I guess</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: it’s because we just popped out one day and everyone celebrated when we started crying</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: not a good omen is it? do you ever think how different we would be if we weren’t conceived when we were conceived?? like maybe even a few hours later and i wouldnt be han jisung</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: actually pls ignore</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: [attached gif]</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: here is a funny gif to break the tension</p><p>───────</p><p>
  <strong> <em>Excerpt: Untitled Journal Entry</em> </strong>
</p><p>I like to believe my life</p><p>is slowly tidying itself</p><p>finishing things up</p><p>like a good novel</p><p>– Bronwen Wallace</p><p>
  <strike>This made me cry.</strike>
</p><p> I want this - things making sense for once, me knowing what I want and not being afraid that all that I am doing will not lead anywhere. That there will be a time when I feel better.</p><p>───────</p><p><strong>Minho</strong>: How is it going, Jisungie?</p><p><strong>Minho</strong>: Yet another sleepless night for me</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>:  i am just going through an existential crisis and i just realised that i have been telling myself my output has to be better??</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: hyung, suffering isn’t poetic</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: because i am suffering and thus! my writing should improve, i should have more insight what the fuck</p><p><strong>Minho</strong>: Conditioning I suppose</p><p><strong>Minho</strong>: Even I used to think that if a client or liaison pissed me enough then I would work hard to show them up you know</p><p><strong>Minho</strong>: But I realised that I did worse because the standards I set for myself were unreachable</p><p><strong>Minho</strong>: It is ok to not be productive when you feel terrible</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: yeah thanks hyung</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: why can’t you sleep though? jet lag again?</p><p><strong>Minho</strong>: Yeah</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: i wish i could help somehow</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: do you want my ‘i can’t sleep cause melatonin is a hoe’ playlist</p><p><strong>Minho</strong>: Um…</p><p><strong>Minho</strong>: Ok??</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: <a href="https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3apxS78XdJYZOTBPsIiTrE?si=64kVP_OKQe2HJsr9p1b9lw">https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3apxS78XdJYZOTBPsIiTrE?si=64kVP_OKQe2HJsr9p1b9lw</a></p><p>───────</p><p><strong>Minho</strong>: That was… eclectic?</p><p><strong>Minho</strong>: I just spent time trying to figure out the whys and hows</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: thanks thanks</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: incase you didn’t know, the sounds of sad whales is my communication style</p><p><strong>Minho</strong>: good to know</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: hyung?</p><p><strong>Minho</strong>: yeah?</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: sleep well</p><p>───────</p><p>
  <strong> <em>Excerpt: Untitled Journal Entry</em> </strong>
</p><p>Looking up at the stars, I know quite well</p><p>That, for all they care, I can go to hell,</p><p>But on earth indifference is the least</p><p>We have to dread from man or beast.</p><p>                                    - Auden</p><p>The stars don’t give a shit  and they’re indifferent too. Does it matter what I do when I can’t control or even foresee half the things that will happen?? Why is all that I do futile and idiotic and exposed to one and all. How can everyone even <span class="u">look </span>like they know what they’re doing when my inability and ineptitude is so glaringly obvious???</p><p>───────</p><p>
  <strong> <em>Excerpt: Untitled Journal Entry</em> </strong>
</p><p><strike>How is it possible to ‘be’ and yet not be seen? How can one walk past a place teeming with people, brush against them, and still remain unseen? It’s so strange to think that people who are flesh and bones, made of matter and mattering to some, are rendered invisible by many just because people refuse to look or decide to look but look past them. </strike> <sup>Indifference is the least we have to dread. How about realising that your entire life is a sham?</sup></p><p><strike>Strange also, that ‘look past’ has both a positive and negative connotation. Positive: to look beyond appearances to see what a person is like on the inside. Negative: to look past their bodies and their minds and close your eyes deliberately to their existence. <sup>F</sup> </strike> <sup>irst year Jisung, your problems are DUMB</sup></p><p><strike>Do you matter when people don’t see you, when they don’t know you or know of you? Yes, you’re taking space because you’re made of matter, but there has to be something beyond this simple existence, right? They say you have two deaths and your final death happens when you’re forgotten and your name is not spoken anymore. </strike> <sup>Freddie Mercury: nothing really matters. Also fuck the concept of space</sup></p><p>───────</p><p><strong>Felix</strong>: [image attached]</p><p><strong>Felix</strong>: goldilocks misses you</p><p><strong>Felix</strong>: college is going well btw</p><p><strong>Felix</strong>: not to flex or anything but i am actually not actively dying yet</p><p>───────</p><p>
  <strong> <em>Excerpt: Jisung’s search history</em> </strong>
</p><p>New York cheesecake</p><p>Easy cheesecake recipe</p><p>*Apartment search website*</p><p>*Apartment search website*</p><p>Define intransigent</p><p>Poems on stars</p><p>Emily Dickinson analysis</p><p>───────</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: [video attached]</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: it rained today</p><p><strong>Minho</strong>: I miss the rain. Monsoon is my favourite season 😍😍</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: I know, that’s why I thought I’ll send it to you</p><p><strong>Minho</strong>: :o</p><p>───────</p><p>
  <strong> <em>Excerpt: Email from client</em> </strong>
</p><p><strong>Subject</strong>: Re: Article on _____</p><p>Dear Mr. Jisung,</p><p>This article is not upto my standards. Kindly go through the instructions again. It was pretty clear. The payment will have to be discussed.</p><p>Regards,</p><p>Park, L</p><p><strong>Subject</strong>: Re: Re: Article on _____</p><p>Dear Ms. Park,</p><p>I went through the instructions again and I have touched upon and included all the major topics. I am unable to understand the exact nature of the issue. Can you please elaborate? It would make it easier for me to make changes.</p><p>Thanks and Regards,</p><p>Han Jisung</p><p><strong>Subject</strong>: Re: Re: Re: Article on _____</p><p>Dear Mr. Jisung</p><p>Refer to the instructions.</p><p>Regards,</p><p>Park, L</p><p>───────</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: [image attached]</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: i asked her for clarification, wtf is she smoking!?!</p><p><strong>Minho</strong>: Wow that’s some next level lack of comprehension</p><p><strong>Minho</strong>: I think she got pissed cause you called her out</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: i’m just.... someone pls smother me 🙏</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: actually someone smother me after i eat the cheesecake i made for my birthday</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: i deserve a last meal </p><p><strong>Minho</strong>: Have you considered that... no one wants to smother you (✿◠‿◠)</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: … what’s with that expression</p><p><strong>Minho</strong>: is it 12 there yet?</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: answer my question!!</p><p><strong>Minho</strong>: Oh wait it’s two! Happy Birthday, Jisungie!!</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: thank you, hyung</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: [image attached]</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: here’s the cheesecake i made</p><p>───────</p><p>“Jisung, happy birthday.”</p><p>Jisung yelps and flails, and his phone clatters on the table. “Oh my god! You scared me,” he complains even as he accepts his mom’s hug. “Thank you.”</p><p>Mom ruffles his hair. “I still can’t believe how grown up you are, it seems like yesterday when you used to follow me around as I watered the plants.”</p><p>“Yeah. Not that it did much good, I’m hopeless with plants,” he jokes. Mom rolls her eyes and takes a seat opposite him, placing her laptop in front of her.</p><p>“Are you talking to a friend?” She inclines her head towards his phone. “I thought I’d get some work done,” she pats her laptop, “but if you aren’t busy then I thought we could talk for a bit.”</p><p>Jisung fiddles with his fork. “Depends. Is it about me being quiet and sad or whatever?”</p><p>His mom looks at him for a moment. He suspects that his face takes on the same expression as hers when he doesn’t know what to say. He takes a bite of cheesecake and waits.</p><p>“It is,” she admits and scratches her forearm, “you’ve just been very… quiet since you came here.”</p><p><em>I don’t know how to tell you about everything that is happening. There’s so much you don’t know. </em>“I’m stressed about work,” he eats another bite, “ there’s just a lot going on, I guess.”</p><p>“It’ll be okay,” mom says immediately and the instant rush of irritation is familiar in Jisung’s veins. </p><p>“Really? How do you know?” he says, leaning back, “how do you know that I’m not doomed to be a failure. Like, you were the one who told me to get a better job when I told you I’ll be freelancing.”</p><p>Mom shakes her head. “You’re not a failure. I know that you have the skills and the ability.”</p><p>Jisung rests his elbows on the table and raises his forearms to cradle his head. “But you don’t apply yourself. You just need to try harder. You shouldn’t procrastinate. I know, okay.” He sighs and there’s the same flickering annoyance and shame but the… despondency, that’s new. </p><p>His Mom’s voice sounds tired and brittle. She shouldn’t be up so late after a whole day at her office, but she never spends her sleepless nights in vain. “No, Ji, I know how the freelancing space is. I meant – about you. That you’ll be fine. You’ll learn how to manage.”</p><p>Jisung groans. “I don’t know – even if things will be fine, they’re not fine now! I’m tired and just – let’s not fight the first thing on my birthday.”</p><p>Mom remains silent. Jisung can smell the cheesecake and the smell is cloying. He still drops one of his hands and scoops another morsel of it. “Do you want a bite?” he asks, just to splinter the silence. </p><p>“No, I don’t eat after six.”</p><p>“Yeah.”</p><p>Though Jisung is old enough to understand that his mom has a life of her own, that she’s a person of her own, it is difficult as always, to look at her without putting her on the pedestal of ‘mom.’ Jisung realises that we can never know our parents just like parents can never know us. And that’s fine, healthy even, but in moments like this: when he’s twenty four, but simultaneously sixteen, Jisung wishes that he understood where she is coming from, wishes he could believe in himself as much as she believed in him.</p><p>“We were planning on visiting you this winter,” Mom says, opening her laptop. The blue light of her screen reflects on her skin and hides her eyes from view. “But since you’ve already visited us now, we thought of extending our stay at Aunty’s instead. Do you want to come with us?”</p><p>“Please, no! Go visit Aunty and then come visit me during spring or something. I’m not going back there.” He shovels a spoonful into his mouth. “I don’t want to hear about all the things that are wrong with me.”</p><p>Mom types something on her laptop, the clicking sound merging with the sonorous ticking of the clock. “What does it matter what she says? Just let it out of the other ear. Anyway, she’s lonely that’s why...” she makes a vague gesture, “she gets very intense.”</p><p>“Yes, you go have fun with her.” Jisung stands up and gathers the plates. “And don’t tell her anything about me… especially about this work thing. She didn’t even understand the whole concept –” he exhales, “just – don’t give her any ammunition.”</p><p>Mom laughs at that. “I’ll tell her that Jisung has abandoned us and that we have no idea what he’s doing in a big city.”</p><p>“Yes!” Jisung says over his shoulder as he walks to the kitchen, “character assasination over Aunty, any day!”</p><p>He hears Mom snort as he turns on the tap and he smiles. On his way back to his bedroom, he pauses and gives her a brief hug. “Good night, Mom.”</p><p>“Good night. Don’t wake up too late,” she says, patting his hand, her eyes already glued to the screen. </p><p>───────</p><p><strong>Hyunjin</strong>: Happy Birthday! Have a good one</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: Thanks!</p><p>───────</p><p><strong>Felix</strong>: Happy Birthday 🎉🎉</p><p><strong>Felix</strong>: i miss you dickhead </p><p><strong>Felix</strong>: stop your embarrassed procrastination and talk to me</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: thanks and i do too </p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>:  i’m sorry</p><p><strong>Felix</strong>: wait! no time for emotions when it's time for submissions</p><p><strong>Felix</strong>: call me tomorrow</p><p>───────</p><p><strong>Jisung: </strong>Happy Birthday!</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: Felix, I am sorry for being a dick, I shouldn’t have lost it like that and taken out my anger on you</p><p><strong>Felix</strong>: wait i’m gonna call you</p><p>───────</p><p>“Can’t believe you ran away like that without even telling me,” Felix says. “Now I have to wait till you get back to get drunk.”</p><p>Jisung stares at the stars on his ceiling, flips them off. “We’ll celebrate once I am back. I just needed a break, I guess.”</p><p>“I guess,” Felix huffs. “How is it?”</p><p>“It is…” Jisung begins then pauses. He wants to say <em>I am cocooned but still lost, like a caterpillar that didn’t get an attached pdf on ‘how to transform into a butterfly’ but that’s weird because why do we even use a biological process as a metaphor for personal growth? </em>but he decides not to mention it. He settles on, “fine, lots of good food.”</p><p>They fall silent. In the background, Jisung can hear Lock barking in her inside voice. He glances at his laptop. It is 7 P.M., Lock’s walking time. “I don’t know why I lost my temper,” he says hurriedly. “I am not justifying myself,” he swallows, throat tight. The feeling of his phone heating against his ear is familiar and so is the constant groping for words. “I am sorry for saying all that.”</p><p>Lock’s tiny bu-owffs turn into sharp, reproachful barks. Felix says, “Sit!” and the barking ceases. Jisung makes a note to buy Lock’s favourite brand of treats as a present.</p><p>“Chill the fuck out, Jisung,” Felix says.</p><p>Jisung laughs, relief unseating something heavy that had taken residence in his stomach.</p><p>Felix continues speaking, “and I am sorry too, it was shitty of me to constantly call you out like that. I thought I was being neutral but that wasn’t the way to do it.”</p><p>Jisung scratches the back of his neck, “yeah well –”</p><p>“Should’ve told you both outright that this is peak dumbassery.”</p><p>“Hey!”</p><p>“Anyway, come home – oh for… stop, it tickles! – for dinner after you’re back.”</p><p>Jisung thinks about the ugly lavender walls and the lone moss green sofa that had greeted them when he had helped Felix move into his new flat. Felix had taken it and made it into his home within a month. As Felix chatters away, Jisung wonders idly about how people decide that a particular space is home. Home, with all sappiness attached.</p><p>For Jisung, it happens when he feels safe enough to hide away from the world. When it becomes a den of sorts; a place to lick his wounds. He snickers on cue when Felix says, “and she hit my face with her big, dumb tail!”</p><p>An odd emptiness snakes through him the moment he ends the call. There is a bird on the grill of his window, its feather spiked up by the rain. It watches him and he watches it. He picks up his laptop.</p><p>───────</p><p><strong>Minho</strong>: So.</p><p><strong>Minho</strong>: I am to be a desperate measure again.</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: stop calling yourself that,, it sounds wrong :-|</p><p><strong>Minho</strong>: The only thing wrong is your imagination. Anyway, I am a desperate measure for the company again</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: you’ll do great, hyungie! 😇 ≧◠ᴥ◠≦</p><p><strong>Minho</strong>: … is that a cat?</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: dunno, i just have it on my keyboard app</p><p><strong>Minho</strong>: anyway, so there’s something that’s happening in the division that’s located in ___</p><p><strong>Minho</strong>: So, I’ll be coming there in a week or so. Monday evening to Wednesday morning. If you’re there by then, would you like to meet?</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: yeah!!! i’ll should be there</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: i* i’m so excited!!</p><p><strong>Minho</strong>: ❤ 😺</p><p>───────</p><p>Jisung wakes up with his skin crawling and a restless roiling in the pit of his stomach. He makes breakfast, chopping and grating with so much force that his mother asks him if he is fine.</p><p>“I’m just a bit anxious about a call with a client,” he says.</p><p>His mother harrumphs and checks on the rice. “It’s just a client, you’ll be fine.” <em>Of course.</em> She sticks the rice ladle into the pressure cooker and scoops up a heaping of rice. “What’re you worried for?”</p><p>When he was younger, and just as much of a scaredy cat, his mom reassured him every day. <em>“No, Ji, your work is fine, your teacher won’t be mad at you,”</em> she would say or, <em>“your haircut looks fine, no one will make fun of you.” </em>Jisung had believed her completely, and had been soothed thoroughly. But, the teacher had gotten mad at him, and his classmates had made fun of him. Facing the exact opposite of his mother’s predictions had devastated him more than what he had feared in the beginning.</p><p>“I don’t know.”<em> I don’t understand why you think everything will be fine. What do you see in me that I don’t?</em> He scrapes cheese from the underside of the grater, “she seemed pretty angry over the mail.” The leftover slivers of cheese melt on the eggs. Mom remains unmoved.</p><p>“You’ll manage.” She places three bowls on the countertop. “You have a way with words.”</p><p>He wants to believe her, wants to wrap it around himself like a security blanket. Even after knowing for a lifetime that she is fallible, even after knowing that she isn’t always right, Jisung still wants to believe, still wants to hold on to her imagined infallibility. But, instead of the devastation from his childhood, what he feels now is the sinking, desperate knowledge that it is futile. </p><p>Unmoored, Jisung plates the scrambled eggs and follows her to the dining area. He listens to the familiar grain of his parent’s voices, to the way the fibres of their habits and personalities wrap around distinct words. Once again, the odd sensation of unfamiliarity in a familiar setting strikes him.</p><p>“May I have some of your eggs, Ji?” mom asks, eyes sliding to his father with a sly look.</p><p>“Uh – yeah,” Jisung scoops it into her plate and turns to find his father holding his plate out as well.” He squints at them, “are you supposed to be eating this? It has a lot of cheese,” he asks as he spoons the eggs into the other plate.</p><p>Mom laughs. “No, but if it’s already here, so why not have a taste?”</p><p>“If we made stuff like say, cheesecake,” Dad winks, “then we would feel terribly guilty.”</p><p>“But if our darling son, who made one for his birthday, made it again, then it would be terribly rude to not eat it,” Mom says. “But before six o’clock, of course.”</p><p>Jisung blinks at his parents. His parents are greyer, smaller and more relaxed in some ways than when he was younger, and more rigid in ways they weren’t before. He wants to cry, but instead he says, “Yeah, yeah. How health conscious of you. But I’ll make cheesecake again.”</p><p>He means to go to the supermarket late in the afternoon – after the call with the client and after he wrestles his emotions about the call into order – but the client reschedules the meeting. Turns out, only Jisung’s time is flexible.</p><p>The supermarket looks much the same as it did when he first moved here. He has fond memories of how thrilling it was to go and pick up snacks whenever he wanted instead of having to make do with his boarding school’s pathetic store.</p><p>At this time in the morning, there are only a few people milling around in the aisles. Jisung spends more time browsing than is necessary. He studies the labels for nutritional values though he doesn’t really know what is considered to be a good value; marvels at the flavours of foreign chocolates – sea salt, mocha, dark chocolate? Fuck yeah and fuck his wallet – and meanders through all the sections.</p><p><em>Past intertwines with the present</em>, he mocks himself when he finally makes his way to the cash counter and finds that it’s raining cats and dogs. He still goes outside after paying, however, because he wants to smell petrichor. There’s a smattering of people on the stairs. Rain drums on the awning and some grumble amongst themselves while others stare at the rain, hypnotised, as if they were shocked into inertia by the unstoppable force of inclement weather.</p><p>Jisung shifts when someone jostles into the free space near him. It’s a man and he taps an unlit cigarette on the railing. He turns back to the scene in front of him, breathes in the ephemeral scent of wet earth.</p><p>“Are you alright?” the man asks.</p><p>Jisung startles, looks at him. The man is much older than him, his hair streaked with grey, and wrinkles carved deep into his skin.</p><p>“You are silent,” the man says, apparently not bothered by this act of asking a stranger about his well-being.</p><p>“Um,” Jisung loosens his grip on the shopping bag, shifts it so that it is not cutting into the same place on his palm. “Just going through things,” he mumbles.</p><p>“Aren’t we all?”</p><p>Well, Jisung isn’t the one who started this conversation. He shrugs, frowning.</p><p>The man shakes his head, sighing. “The world is going to shit.”</p><p>Jisung makes a non-committal noise. His fingers are numb with the sudden chill in the air. He hopes desperately that the rain has lessened in the few seconds that he wasn’t paying attention, but no such luck.</p><p>“I thought I had worries,” the man continues, and Jisung resigns himself to conversation. “Then I see people your age living hand to mouth and I’m just thinking what’s the world coming to, you know?”</p><p>Jisung bobs his head in what he hopes is a sympathetic nod. He is shit at conversations in general, but deep conversations with a stranger? Stuff right from nightmares. And why on earth is <em>he </em>a magnet for unsolicited deep conversations from <em>strangers</em>, for god’s sake? It must be the angst.</p><p>“I feel sorry for you lot,” the man beats a tattoo with the cigarette, “got dealt a bad hand, I always say. Climate change, recession, hacking, what not.”</p><p>Jisung, having marinated for so long in his own myopic angst, is not ready to face the reality of a collective existential crisis. He wishes he had never known what a cheesecake was.</p><p>The man pushes off the railing, looks at Jisung. “Well, Yongseok, it was nice talking to you, I’ll see at the party this week.”</p><p>Jisung remains silent.</p><p>The man stalks off.</p><p>───────</p><p><strong>Felix</strong>: I understand that man mistaking you for someone else cause you were as covered up as a mummy</p><p><strong>Felix</strong>: but it is hilarious that you and yongseok have a vibe match</p><p><strong>Felix</strong>: that’s so sad 😂 😂 😂</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: shut up i’m never telling you anything</p><p><strong>Felix</strong>: yeah right.</p><p><strong>Felix</strong>: tiny, blond, doe-eyed and angsty, a lewk ™</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: <strong>🖕</strong> <strong>🖕</strong></p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: tho myopic angst sounds like a band name</p><p><strong>Felix</strong>:<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KSs63V-RmPk"> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KSs63V-RmPk</a></p><p><strong>Felix</strong>: your theme song 😂</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: &gt;:(</p><p>───────</p><p>“I’m meeting Minho hyung when I go back.”</p><p>His father raises his head from his phone, turns to Jisung and raises a brow. “Ah, Minho hyung.”</p><p>Jisung stares at his blinking cursor, trying to affect boredom. His neck prickles. “Yeah,” he says as he curses himself for saying it out loud. But, he just couldn’t keep it with himself anymore. “He’s coming there for some work.”</p><p>His father has that expression, that annoying one which says <em>I know you’re hiding something, but I am ignoring it</em>.  Jisung turns to his laptop. “You stopped talking about him suddenly. I thought you had a falling out with him,” his dad says.</p><p>Jisung types a random string of letters. Makes a thoughtful face at it. Nods. “Huh?” he drawls, “oh, we just lost touch, I guess.”</p><p>“I see.” His father sounds like he is about to needle him some more, so Jisung braces himself, eyes still fixed on his laptop screen. “You never used to shut up about your Minho hyung, you know.” Jisung opens his mouth because, no, what is this <em>your Minho hyung</em> shit, but Dad continues, “friendships like that are rare, I’m glad you’re talking again.”</p><p>Jisung blinks. “I – yeah.”</p><p>Dad turns back to his phone, starts watching another video.</p><p>───────</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: what would you prefer eating</p><p><strong>Minho</strong>: Anything</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: there’s a new italian restaurant near my place that’s good</p><p><strong>Minho</strong>: I want bbq </p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: i …</p><p>───────</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: what if I accidentally eat the piece of meat that Minho hyung has picked for himself????</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: ????</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: what if i spill water on him or bring up <em>the</em> thingy</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: what if he brings it up!!!</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: what if he asks me why i am a coward</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: oh shit you must in college sorry for disturbing you!</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: text me whenever. after you’re done with all your work</p><p><strong>Felix</strong>: you are dumb</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: :-C</p><p><strong>Felix</strong>: just let the conversation flow don’t stuff your face</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: being chill and letting the conversation flow are the two things i cannot do!</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: (and not stuffing my face)</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: you know what, i am leaving it up to god</p><p><strong>Felix</strong>: stop freaking out, minho hyung will not do anything to make you uncomfortable and you guys have been talking through text for a while now</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: i know. still</p><p><strong>Felix</strong>: it’ll go well, don’t worry. send me pics of your outfit tho</p><p><strong>Felix</strong>: make sure you dress snazzy for your date 😏</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: it is not a date! i am the only one with flexible timings</p><p><strong>Felix</strong>: yeah? he’s coming there for twenty-four hours but he desperately eants to meet you</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: yeah cause we just made up</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: it is to cement it or whatever</p><p><strong>Felix</strong>: im not going to say anything</p><p>───────</p><p>“This cheesecake is amazing!” his mother says, taking another bite. “I still can’t believe that you can bake so well.” She sighs and pushes the plate away. “Keep it away from me.”</p><p>“Felix’s apartment has a very shitty oven so he taught me how to bake so that he always has a supply of baked goods.” Jisung grins. “Felix and I have a system. He cooks meals and I bake stuff.”</p><p>“And what does Hyunjin do? The side dishes?”</p><p>Jisung’s smile drops. “He’s too busy.” He avoids his mom’s eyes. “Anyway, you won’t believe what happened!” </p><p>───────</p><p><strong>Jeongin</strong>: let me know when you’re back</p><p><strong>Jeongin</strong>: we can go out for lix hyung’s birthday celebration</p><p><strong>Jeongin</strong>: (hyunjin hyung wouldn’t be there,, we’ll have another one with him separately)</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: sure innie</p><p>───────</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: happy birthday seungminnie</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: i miss you or whatever</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: if you decide to visit then i’ll be super inconvenienced just so you know</p><p><strong>Seungmin</strong>: thanks and the desperation to see me just made my day </p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: what part of super inconvenienced do you not understand &gt;:(</p><p><strong>Seungmin</strong>: like you didn’t preface it by saying that you missed me</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: it was obviously auto correct 🙄</p><p>───────</p><p>
  <strong> <em>Excerpt: Untitled Journal Entry</em> </strong>
</p><p>Do I hate my job or does my job hate me? I lack all the accessory skills required to be a freelancer. What the fuck was I thinking? If I had thought a little more maybe I wouldn’t have to hear all the (true) shit that my clients spew</p><p>───────</p><p>“Do you think it’s strange that it’s so easy to talk to each other?” Jisung says, putting the phone on speaker and rolling onto his side. He pulls the blanket over his head and places the phone next to his hand.</p><p>Minho chuckles and the sound reverberates in the dark nest. Jisung burrows his face into his pillow, breathing in the scent of fresh linen. “How drunk are you, Jisung?” </p><p>Jisung sighs, watching the seconds tick away. “Just a little. I’m just buzzed. Parents went out for the night so I helped myself to the alcohol.”</p><p>“Wow. Rebellious,” Minho drawls. There’s no ambient noise from his side and Jisung imagines a void yawning behind Minho.</p><p>“I’m just buzzed,” he repeats just as his phone starts to dim. “I feel like talking a lot,” he says into the murky darkness. </p><p>Back when they used to pull all-nighters, Minho’s voice always took a scratchy, dulcet quality late into the night. When he says, “hmm, late nights do that to a person,” his voice is just like <em>that </em>and momentary shock punches Jisung’s breath out of his chest. </p><p>It is so strange. It’s the same person, so of course Minho will sound the same. And yet, it’s the details that anchor him to the fact that… <em>this is Minho hyung</em>. “Do you think we’re rushing too fast with this entire friendship thing.”</p><p>He jostles his phone and it lights up again. Jisung blinks and traces the floaters that drift in front of his eyes. A dog starts barking outside and a few others join it. It’s an oddly soothing sound and a familiar one. Jisung tucks his hands between his thighs, listens to the dogs harmonize their howling.</p><p>“Do <em>you </em>feel so?” Minho says with a reserved tinge to his words. It would’ve bothered Jisung at any other time, but all those beers are still bubbling in his bloodstream and it registers only as a blip before it dissolves. “Sungie? Are you there?”</p><p>“Yeah, sorry,” Jisung mumbles and then the words spill out like those plants that crack concrete in search of light, “I think the boundaries were fuzzy – never defined. That it was a pause because I was dumb and now it’s like unpause and… I think –”</p><p>“You think?”</p><p><em>You found your place. It was always there in me. I don’t know if I did.  </em>“That this is how we are.” Warmth suffuses him, and it is that kind of warmth that emanates from his marrow. Or maybe it is the alcohol. Who knows? “You were my first friend.” A tiny voice pipes up inside him, saying, <em>hey, why don't you consider shutting up? </em>Too late, tiny voice. </p><p>Minho makes a surprised noise. An articulated ‘<em>oh</em>’. “Really?” </p><p><em>In this episode of Jisung’s life, he overshares again! </em>“Yeah. I met Hyunjin a couple of weeks after you and I first sat together in class.” <em>You texted me and I used to write out my replies in the notes app before texting you back because I was petrified that a senior was texting me. </em></p><p>Minho is silent. Jisung is teetering along the edge of wanting to spill his guts, but also knowing that doing so will mean bleeding shame all over the floor. This is why he prefers getting obliterated to this half-assed, buzzed business. Some things should be ‘either-or.’</p><p>“I don’t think we’re moving too fast,” Minho says. Jisung’s heart leaps. “I mean, since the time we met, we have been disgustingly pseudo-philosophical,” Minho says with a laugh. “Sharing our personal philosophies and college misery. Remember –”</p><p>“It wasn’t ever miserable with you.” <em>Shut up</em>. “Sorry for interrupting but yeah, that’s who we are.”</p><p>Silence again. Jisung digs his thumb into his forefinger. “Jisung,” Minho says, “It’s getting late – I mean, I have to shower and leave soon –”</p><p>“Yeah – yes, sorry!” Jisung babbles, heart clenching, “sorry, hyung… I shouldn’t have–”</p><p>“But I’m glad that we started talking again!” Minho says in a rush. “I’m… glad and we should– um call each other. More?”</p><p>What is this reminding him of? “Yes, yes, absolutely.” </p><p>“Okay. Okay then. Um – drink water before you sleep.”</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>“Bye!”</p><p>Jisung stares at his phone as it switches to the homescreen. He slowly untucks his hands, buries his face in them and screeches.</p><p>───────</p><p>
  <strong> <em>Excerpt: Email from landlord</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>Subject: Lease Renewal and Rent Payment</strong>
</p><p>…</p><p>…</p><p>Kindly let us know about your decision by _/9/20__. </p><p>Regards,</p><p>Choi T.</p><p>───────</p><p>
  <strong> <em>Excerpt: Jisung’s search results</em> </strong>
</p><p>Cheap single room apartments</p><p>Apartments in ____</p><p>*Apartment search sites*</p><p>(32 tabs)</p><p>───────</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: [image attached]</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: i can see a bee hive outside the window?? why do landlords think they can get away with anything???</p><p><strong>Felix</strong>: to be a ‘b’ or to not be a ‘b’</p><p><strong>Felix</strong>: landlords also choose to be a b</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: yuck, eat the rich</p><p><strong>Felix</strong>: didn’t you ask chan hyung to help you out?</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>:  ʘ‿ʘ</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: yes oh my god</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: but he hasn’t gotten back to me yet</p><p><strong>Felix</strong>: did you actually forget 🤡</p><p><strong>Felix</strong>: just ask him once again!? </p><p>───────</p><p><strong>Jisung: </strong>hyung, any news on the apartment 👉👈</p><p><strong>Chan</strong>: Hey Jisung! How are you?</p><p><strong>Chan</strong>: Sorry but no two room apartments are available</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: i am fine. How’re you?</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: but i just want a one room one? and i don’t mind a flat mate if there’s one</p><p><strong>Chan</strong>: Wait</p><p><strong>Chan</strong>: Aren’t you and hyunjin moving together?</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: no??</p><p><strong>Chan</strong>: How was I supposed to know Jisungie 🙄</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: (╥﹏╥)</p><p><strong>Chan</strong>: There’s a single room apt that will be empty soon so I’ll put in a good word with my friend. It is a one room, kitchen and living room </p><p><strong>Chan</strong>: be quick tho</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: DONE!!</p><p><strong>Chan</strong>: Jisung, rent</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: not done YET</p><p><strong>Chan</strong>: I am scared for you</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: (✿◠‿◠)</p><p>───────</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: do you want to see the rain? on video call?</p><p>───────</p><p>The pleasantries are a bit awkward, but Jisung powers through it by making one oblique reference, <em>haha, I do get super maudlin the moment I drink </em>and then prattling on and on about inconsequential things. Minho starts looking more and more amused, so Jisung counts that as a win. </p><p>“It is so grey,” Minho says the moment Jisung turns on the back camera. “Damn.”</p><p>It is afternoon now, but the sky has gathered all the darkened clouds onto itself and has cloaked itself from view. The drone of rain is steady, loud. Unrelenting. Jisung watches the tiny square at the corner of his screen that contains the entirety of the sky.</p><p>“It’s been going on for a while now,” Jisung informs him though there really isn’t a reason to. “I suppose fall is just around the corner.”</p><p>Minho nods but doesn’t say anything. Jisung studies the way his hair flops over his forehead and the way his features blur because of the shitty network. He seems the same, but there’s a stillness to him that Jisung hasn’t seen before. There is a flash of lightning and then a roar of thunder. “Woah!” Minho says and then claps. “That was amazing!”</p><p>Warmth aches in his chest. Jisung smiles even though Minho can’t see him and turns the camera from one end of the window frame to another. In the building that is opposite his, two kids stand in the balcony in silence as they watch the rain. There is something about watching nature together that creates a thin thread of connection, he muses, because everyone is awed at the same time by the same thing. Even if the thread breaks the moment the rain ends, the two edges of it still remain.</p><p>Jisung looks at Minho again and he wonders.</p><p>“Jisung, stop letting the rain–” Dad enters the living room with a frown but it clears the moment he sees Jisung, “oh! Talking to a friend are you?”</p><p>Minho asks, “who is that? Your father?”</p><p>“It’s Minho hyung,” Jisung hisses and makes a shooing motion, but his father marches towards him with an eager smile that promises humiliation.</p><p>Once he is near enough to the mic, he says, “Hello, Minho! Enjoying the rain?” He follows Jisung even as he tries to get away from him and his embarrassing curiosity.</p><p>“Hello, sir.” Minho’s voice trembles with laughter. “Wait, Jisung, put me on speaker.”</p><p>“There’s no network,” Jisung says, waving the phone away from his dad, “if he comes back on then I’ll call you.”</p><p>“Nonsense,” dad says and grabs the earbud that is hanging over Jisung’s shoulder, “he’s waving at me. Look at him, that poor boy.”</p><p>Minho is indeed waving frantically. Jisung thinks that he is perhaps trying to say, “no! save me!” but Dad starts speaking.</p><p>“Ah, this boy never lets me meet his friends,” Dad grumbles and somehow figures out which button turns on the front camera. Jisung feels his face flush when Minho’s snort of laughter rings in his ears. This isn’t his good angle and his father refuses to let him adjust the phone.</p><p>Minho laughs. “Maybe he is embarrassed by us,” he says and he is grinning so much that Jisung can count all his teeth even with the shitty internet.</p><p>“No, Ji seems fond of all you” dad says then a beat later, “he just gets shy and then puts his foot in his mouth.”</p><p>“Well, I am glad he’s fond of us,” Minho nods but there’s an odd look on his face now and Jisung wishes for the rain to drown him.</p><p>Jisung speaks before this turns worse. “Minho hyung wanted to watch the rains,” he says, plucking the errant earbud back from his father, “I am going to show him the view from my bedroom window,” he says and legs it to his bedroom before Dad can stop him.</p><p>He locks the door behind him and sighs. His heartbeat echoes in his ears and his cheeks are still hot. “I am sorry about that. My dad is excitable. And embarrassing.”</p><p>Minho doesn’t look perturbed. “I thought it was charming that he wants to know your friends so much.” Then he grins, “and he seemed to have fun teasing you.”</p><p>Jisung groans. “Everyone always teases me,” he complains. “What have I ever done to be teased so much.” Jisung sits on the floor with his back against the bed frame. </p><p>Minho opens his mouth but he doesn’t say anything. “Parents are like that,” he says eventually.</p><p>Jisung rolls his eyes. “They can never take what they dish out. Anyway, I hope you liked the rain,” he says then worries his lower lip between his teeth. “I can send you a video too.”</p><p>Is it the blurriness of the video or does Minho’s face actually soften? “You don’t have to,” Minho says, so softly that Jisung struggles to hear him over the hiss of the rain.</p><p>“But I want to,” Jisung insists, “I–” he pauses, uncertain. “It seems important for some reason. That you see what I am seeing.” <em>That’s why I video called you even though it is terrifying.</em></p><p>He sounds like a sappy, greasy fool. He drops his gaze and pricks his index finger with the nail of his thumb. “Shit. I should’ve just sent you a video like before but um– fuck. Hyung, sorry.”</p><p>Minho is silent. Jisung watches as the rain slants and drums at his windows, hears his father switch on some terrible variety show. His heart is humming bird fast, too many beats per minute, but the minute itself seems stretched out, viscous and vicious in its flow.</p><p>“There’s something to be said about a friend who video calls you to show you the rain,” Minho says finally and it isn’t what Jisung wants to hear, but he doesn’t know what he wants to hear either. It doesn’t sound angry or mocking, so Jisung looks at the screen again.</p><p>“And what’s that something that can be said?” Jisung asks, swiping away a notification that pops on his screen, “about friends who share nature with each other?”</p><p>“That it means something,” Minho says without taking time to think, “that it means a lot.”</p><p>The flame of mortification gutters, then dims. </p><p>“I really liked the fact that you did this, Jisungie. Don’t worry about it.”</p><p>Jisung tips his head back against the bed frame and smiles.</p><p>───────</p><p>
  <strong>To be continued</strong>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Strangers kick starting crises with unsolicited advice is a mood tbh. Also, the moment Goldilocks entered the scene, I knew that this fic was getting out of hand haha. She is based on that golden retriever that Felix was petting when he went to a dog cafe. </p><p>
  <b>| <a href="https://twitter.com/liquorish_roots">twitter</a>|</b>
  <br/>
  <b>|<a href="https://curiouscat.me/trip_the_zipp">curious cat</a>|</b>
</p><p>
  <a href="https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3apxS78XdJYZOTBPsIiTrE?si=-GD7ZMTpQpmOlqTrFXNYfQ"> i can’t sleep cause melatonin is a hoe</a>
</p><p><b>References</b><br/><i>All in all you're just another brick in the wall</i> – Another Brick in the Wall, Pink Floyd<br/><i>you are flung on the sand… that drives in the wind</i> – Sea Rose, Hilda Doolittle<br/><i>I like to believe my life… like a good novel</i> – I Like to Believe My Life,  Bronwen Wallace<br/><i>Looking up at the stars, I know quite well… man or beast </i>– The More Loving One, W. H Auden</p><p>Hope you’re enjoying it so far! Thoughts and comments are invaluable and much appreciated! I would love to hear them &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Part III</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>If you’ve been following since the first update then you might have noticed that the summary and chapter count have changed.</p><p>
  <span class="small">◦ After posting the second chapter, my beta reader and I had a lengthy discussion and she said that the summary seemed too one sided and didn’t really encompass the elements of the fic. So, I changed it and I hope it's good. It’s really difficult to summarize a story that I’ve been writing for four months lol. I’m too close to it, I guess.</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="small">◦ Secondly, the chapter count. I know it’s really annoying when authors increase it suddenly, but based on the discussion we had, I ended up making a <i>lot</i> of changes to the third part to make it deeper and richer. So now, the word count is 80k+ plus and it’s really difficult to edit and re-write because it’s just the two of us. Our schedules also clash and we’re both busy with work and studies, so yeah, it’s a lot to handle. </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="small">◦ But! I really wanted to post something on Jisung’s birthday and it’s been a while since I updated, so I thought I should. This is a really meaty chapter with a lot of momentum and was my favourite to write. </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="small">◦ Lastly, I know that I’m terrible at replying to comments on time, but I read all your comments and appreciate and cherish each one of them! Also, thank you so much for all the kudos, bookmarks and subscriptions! A lot of things are happening irl and I’m constantly frazzled, but I’ll try to do better from now on! </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="small">◦ Stream Back Door</span>
</p><p>Hope you enjoy it!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><strong>Part III<br/>section viii</strong>: <strong>recalculating orbits</strong></p><p>
  <em>October, 20__</em>
</p><p>“Wow.” Jeongin squints at him over the rim of his beer glass, “Minho hyung really does have a soft corner for you.”</p><p>Jisung hunches over his glass and shoots Felix a baleful look when he snorts. “Minho hyung is a good guy. That’s all.”</p><p>“If it had been me, I would’ve made you grovel a lot, hyung,” Jeongin says throwing his arms over the back of their booth.</p><p>“You’re a brat. And an evil monster,” Jisung wags his finger right near Jeongin’s face so that his finger taps the tip of his nose. He laughs when Jeongin scrunches his nose and rears back. “I’m just grateful that he’s giving me time. I thought he would ignore me.”</p><p>Felix sips his beer with a thoughtful look. “You know, I really want to know Minho hyung’s side of the story,” he says, “like what happened from the moment he called you when you were at the cafe to the moment he said, ‘it means a lot.’”</p><p>Jeongin manages to get to the last of the shrimp crackers before Jisung and holds his fist up triumphantly. Jisung pouts and whines. “Is this how you behave when your prodigal friend returns?”</p><p>Jeongin sighs and hands a few pieces to him. “The drama for <em>crackers</em>.” He scowls when Jisung cackles. “You’re such a bad influence, hyung,” he says before turning to Felix, “but yeah, it would be interesting to know Minho hyung’s side of things. I don’t mean it in a bad way, but we only know what you’re saying.”</p><p>Jisung nods then changes his frowns. “Wait. Why do I get the feeling that you want, like, well rounded gossip?”</p><p>“Because you know us too well,” Jeongin quips, eyes shining with laughter.</p><p>“And it’s not gossip if we’re just looking out for you,” Felix laughs and bumps his fist with Jeongin. </p><p>Jisung rolls his eyes. The pub gets louder as more people start streaming in after the end of their workday. The sharp, grainy smell of beer and sweat fogs the air and the tabletop is sticky beneath his arms. Jisung is sleepy and warm and glad to see the both of them. “I’ve missed you guys,” he says, “it was a long two months. How was it for you guys?”</p><p>Felix looks up from his phone. “I’m being flayed alive and I feel like the biggest ignoramus, but Jeongin tells me he feels the same, so I’m not going to worry about it.” He cracks his neck and picks up his beer again. “And… um, that was Hyunjin,” he turns the phone towards Jisung.</p><p>“Oh.” Jisung traces the steady roll of a drop of condensation on his glass. “Does he want to join us? I don’t mind. I’m not going to ban him from coming to public places and meeting common friends, you know.” There’s a twinge of annoyance, but he pushes it away before it can sprout and dig its roots into him. What’s the point of being angry now? “If he can bear to spend time with me, that is,” he adds bitterly.</p><p>“Nah.” Felix pauses, shares a look with Jeongin. “He wants to know if you’re back.”</p><p>Jisung opens his mouth then closes it, the bubble of contentment popping just as soon as it swelled. He rubs his eyes. “Why? So that he can stay far away from me?”</p><p>Felix scratches the side of his neck and bites his lips. “So that um... he can talk to you. He kept telling us,” he gestures at himself and then at Jeongin, “that he has to talk to you when we met recently.”</p><p>Jisung swipes at the salt and oil that gleams on the plate. “I don’t know.” He is too tired to hide the ache in his voice. “He really hurt me.”</p><p>Jeongin reaches forward and pats his hand. “I know, hyung. But he wants to uh...throw some light on what happened and apologize.”</p><p>The chattering in the bar is too loud all of a sudden. Jisung flicks his glass, but the clink of it drowns in the ambient noise before it reaches him. Felix clears his throat, “so just consider it,” he says, eyes darting away when Jisung looks at him. He scratches the side of his neck again, “I’m not going to force you like before… I just want the best for you both.”</p><p>“Yeah, hyung,” Jeongin adds quietly, “I think it will – it will be good. But it’s your choice.”</p><p><em>I love them</em>, Jisung thinks, and it’s not the beer talking because he has hardly finished his first one. It’s because Jeongin and Felix are staring at him with wide, worried eyes and the answer is obvious. “I will,” he says and drains the rest of his drink, “now please let’s go get shots.”</p><p>───────</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: Happy birthday hyung ✨</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: Have fun with your family!!</p><p><strong>Chan</strong>: Thanks Jisungie. </p><p><strong>Chan</strong>: btw you’re going to check out my friend’s flat right?</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: yes, yes</p><p>───────</p><p><strong>Hyunjin</strong>: Hey Jisung. Can we talk?</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: Yes. But give me a few days.</p><p>───────</p><p>It’s a drizzly sort of evening. The puddles reflect lights from the street in hazy shapes. Jisung is early and as he watches cars drive over the puddles, he imagines streaks of yellow and white light painting the underside of tyres as they move away.</p><p>He knows that waiting inside would be better, but the possibility of awkward greetings is more inside the restaurant than outside. For e.g. what if he knocks over his chair while getting up to greet Minho? What if Minho slips into his seat while Jisung stands up? What if Minho doesn’t turn up? So, he stands under the awning of the restaurant and shoves his hands into his pockets to keep them warm. </p><p>A cab pulls over at the side of the road but the person who emerges is not Minho. Jisung’s heart, unsure whether it should flutter or clench, is an uncomfortable, suspended weight that pounds against his chest. He is sweating and he shifts his weight from foot to foot, index finger digging into his thumb inside his pocket.</p><p>A cab deposits Minho on the pavement some distance ahead of where Jisung is standing. A bunch of cackling friends pass him just then and obscure Jisung’s line of sight. When Minho is visible again, Jisung sees that he’s studying the signboards. Jisung trips over his feet as he tries to flatten himself against the wall, suddenly terrified. But Minho finds the right one and then his gaze falls on the spot where Jisung is huddled and well, he can’t hide anymore.</p><p>Minho is wearing a fluffy, brown coat that he used to wear in college. The corners of his mouth twitch for a moment and then they fly upwards and Minho grins as if he can’t quite control himself. He covers the distance at an impressive speed and Jisung is rooted to the spot, like one of those deers that stare at the blinding light of a car. </p><p>Minho is in front of him, and all Jisung can focus on are his earrings. They’re pretty. Crystalline. They glint like stars. Minho says, “hi, Jisungie.”</p><p>Jisung’s tongue is a swollen, useless husk in his mouth. Still he manages to croak out a, “hello, hyung.” As per his feverish, spiralling plans to make things as non-awkward as possible, he isn’t supposed to ask for a hug because he is awkward in general and also because Minho is sometimes awkward about these things. So he keeps his hands clenched in his pockets.</p><p>Minho’s eyes are intense and he is blinking in that odd way of his. Jisung moves his body imperceptibly forward, unsure. His fingers are honest to god twitching and when Minho raises his hands his heart leaps to his throat. But then Minho’s hands remain suspended in the air and a second later, he straightens the lapels of his coat. “Shall we go in?”</p><p>Oddly bereft and embarrassed, he nods and leads the way. He steps into something, halts and squeaks when Minho bumps into him.</p><p>“What happened?” Minho asks, his hand gripping Jisung’s elbow to steady him. </p><p>Jisung lifts his leg and checks, and groans when he sees a wad of gum sticking to it. “Stepped on gum. Of course, this happens to my new boots.” He drops his foot and drags it against the asphalt, leaning a little into Minho’s side for balance. His face is burning. <em>Of course</em>.</p><p>“Were you trying to impress me?” Minho teases, “don’t worry, I like you just the way you are.”</p><p>Though he knows that Minho is joking, he can’t help but think about the amount of time and tension it had taken him to settle on an outfit and the pile of rejected clothes that are lying on his bed. “You wish,” he replies, “and if I wanted to impress you then I would’ve just brought along a cat.” Jisung inspects the sole of the shoe and deems it gum free. He starts walking to the entrance of the restaurant. </p><p>“I can’t believe you didn’t send me more photos of the cat at the playground,” Minho grumbles, his shoulder bumping against Jisung’s briefly. </p><p>Jisung swears that his shoulders creak as they lose what seems five hundred kilos of tension. This is Minho hyung, his friend. Having gotten its answer, his heart flutters as warmth encases him. </p><p>“She’s royalty, she rarely made an appearance.” Jisung opens the door and the smell of food is so strong that his stomach cramps with sudden hunger.</p><p>“Aren’t royalty supposed to make a lot of public appearances?”</p><p>“You know what I mean,” Jisung comes to a stop and waves his hands. “Which table should we take?”</p><p>Minho picks a table near the window. After the waiter takes their order, Jisung studies Minho. He’s wearing a cloudy, bluish grey shirt and his hair is black and is starting to creep beyond his collar. What strikes Jisung is how real he looks, the details he has forgotten. In the few pictures they’ve shared, Minho always uses funny filters and video calls have a dampening, blurry effect on his face, so Jisung has no frame of reference for this.</p><p>He had once read that every time you recall a memory, you recall a copy of it and this copy gets saved for next time. So after a while, you only remember the copies of copies. <em>And that’s the case with me,</em> Jisung thinks, <em>how did I not notice that I only remember his contours.</em></p><p>Minho picks his chopsticks and twirls them around his hand. “You look the same.”</p><p>Ouch. Jisung drops his gaze, ears heating when he realises that he’s been staring. And he wants to hide the sting of Minho’s words, too. There’s no reason to be hurt, he knows that he looks the same, he has mirrors aplenty, but he had hoped, secretly, that someone would notice some change in his appearance that was congruent to his inner turmoil. He doesn’t know <em>what</em> change he is hoping for, but it seems unnatural for everything to be imploding inside his head without reflecting on his face.</p><p>Maybe he should dye his hair.</p><p>“You look older,” Jisung picks up his chopsticks too. He shakes his head at Minho’s wry smile. “No, no. I meant that in a good way. You look dignified and… sharper?”</p><p>Minho smirks, fidgeting with his chopsticks, twirling them between his fingers.  “It’s the genetics.”</p><p>“Yes, yes, all hail your genes,” Jisung sighs, but he can’t help smiling. It is surreal to sit opposite Minho and talk to him like this, to catalogue the familiar and unfamiliar and to watch his earrings sway as he moves.</p><p>“Hmm, did you know that I found a white hair?” Minho touches his hairline, “I was so shocked that I nearly didn’t go to work,” he tries to pick up the salt shaker with his chopsticks. “We never enjoy our youth while we have it,” he says and eyes are twinkling.</p><p>There’s a weight that takes the edge off of the surreality of the situation. Jisung’s nervousness sparks to life again. “I know you just want me to say that you’re still young.”</p><p>Minho laughs. This is easy, enjoyable but Jisung has to steer clear of this path.</p><p>“I owe you an apology,” Jisung says, not waiting to look for an opportunity to segue into this topic. He’s never been smooth and this is such a quick, pulsating prod at the back of his mind that he thinks he ought to let it do what it wants.</p><p>Minho’s eyes widen, but a moment later his features relax. “You don’t have to do this again. I understand why you did what you did,” he says, voice soft.</p><p>Jisung shakes his head. “I want to do this face to face. It doesn’t feel right to only talk about this phone,” he says. Where is this courage coming from? He breathes in, exhales. “I was so embarrassed,” he swallows, inspecting a tiny chip of his plate’s rim, “that I didn’t want to think about it at all.” <em>It</em>. “I just wanted to forget my confession.”</p><p>Minho flinches but remains silent. He places his chopsticks back with a soft clink.</p><p>“And I hoped that something would make things better without me having to work for it,” he says in a rush as he holds Minho’s gaze, “I guess I was hoping that things would go back the way they were without me having to do the hard work to change it. Because it did change <em>something, </em>but I – I made it worse as I waited for it to get...” he looks away, “better.”</p><p>A car honks outside. A group of students enter the restaurant with their laptops, satchels and deep exhaustion and fill the silence with their laughter and the scrapes of chairs. A waiter passes them, his shoes squeaking. A grill hisses somewhere and the group quiets as they all settle.</p><p>“I was mad at you,” Minho says. When Jisung darts his eyes towards him again, Minho is still regarding him. Jisung eyes flit to the side of Minho’s face, stomach dropping. “I understand what you were feeling – I know that even if the person who… the other person is kind, the embarrassment won’t disappear – but then time kept passing and it infuriated me that you chose to just let,” he waves a hand in the space between them, “the chasm widen.”</p><p>The waiter sweeps to their table, relieves herself of the dishes rapidly and then sweeps away. The restaurant is filling up, but a bubble ensconces them as Minho starts placing meat on the grill. </p><p>“I am sorry. I was being dumb.” Jisung’s voice is low. He doesn’t know what else to say. Perhaps there is a list of right things to say in this situation, but just like that imagined pdf on ‘how to become a butterfly,’ he does not have this list either. He’s blushing and his sides squeeze together in mortification when he thinks of how he behaved. “Your friendship means a lot to me, Minho hyung,” he falters, ducks his head, hopes that his sincerity is and isn’t obvious at the same time, “and I missed you.”</p><p>Minho smiles, just a little and Jisung holds his breath. “I missed you, too.” Minho starts drumming his fingers on the table. “And... I could’ve gotten in touch too after a year or so, but I didn’t.”</p><p>“You don’t have–” Jisung protests.</p><p>“Let’s just say that we were both not willing to give in,” Minho wags a finger. “But I am really glad that you texted me. It – I,” Minho’s face softens, and he leans back in his chair, places his arms on the table. Open. “It meant a lot to me.”</p><p>Jisung thinks, <em>the past intertwines with the present</em>. But, even then, if Minho wasn’t so – Minho, then all would have been for naught anyway. In third year when he had chosen to seek refuge in being busy like a fool, he had lost Minho’s friendship. But earlier this year he had texted without hoping for anything and Minho had chosen to reciprocate. Things aren’t always about him.</p><p><em>Myopic angst</em>, he thinks and then he whispers, “I missed you so much, hyung, really.”</p><p>Minho, who is now flipping the meat on the grill, looks up and beams. “Ah, you’re cute, Jisungie.”</p><p>Jisung grins, heart quivering in delight. Thinks, <em>light finds the cracks</em>.</p><p>───────</p><p><strong>Felix</strong>: that man has a gigantic soft spot for you</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: you have a gigantic soft spot on thee skull</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: but… i am so glad i met him today</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: I am meeting him tomorrow too</p><p><strong>Felix</strong>: cute (¬‿¬)</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: shut up</p><p>───────</p><p>“The stars aligned for once and I am going to meet Chan hyung’s friend soon,” Jisung tells Minho, sniffing appreciatively at the box of dumplings.</p><p>“That’s incredibly lucky,” Minho agrees and wrestles with a sauce packet. “Even though you waited till the last minute to specify what you were looking for.”</p><p>Jisung ruffles his hair sheepishly. “Yeah, I wonder what would’ve happened if I wasn’t surrounded by kind people.” He shakes his head, “I mean, you and Chan hyung and all didn’t have to do things for me, but you did anyway.”</p><p>“It’s called friendship, Jisungie,” Minho says. He manages to open the sauce packet, but some of it spills on his fingers. He licks them clean.</p><p>Jisung snatches a dumpling with more force than necessary. This isn’t the time for this. “Yeah well.” <em>I’ve not been friend of the year recently</em>, he wants to say, but doesn’t. “I wonder what I did in my last life to be so lucky.” He stuffs the dumpling in his mouth.</p><p>“I like to think that the world is random and meaningless and that it is up to us to make sense and create meaning for ourselves.” Minho smiles as he says it and ends the sentence with a shrug. </p><p>Jisung squints at him. “That was pretentious.” He whimpers like a puppy when Minho throws empty sauce sachets at him and stops only when Minho offers him two dumplings out of pity. “I thought you were done with your existential crisis, and that it was my turn to regret my birth.” He picks up one of the extra dumplings and dips it in the sauce.</p><p>“It never leaves you,” Minho says gravely.</p><p>“Wonderful.”</p><p>They eat in silence for some time. Minho’s apartment’s cavernous size is diminished because of the sheer number of furniture and decorations that fill the vast space. And to think that Minho calls this, “another small apartment that my family maintains here.” In the midst of a crowded living room, Jisung and Minho are seated on the floor out of fear of staining anything. If Minho himself is being so fastidious then Jisung is going to be doubly so.</p><p>Minho breaks the silence. “I could only meet Changbin,” he says, tearing open a dumpling, “I actually wanted to meet all of you, but schedules,” he waves his chopsticks in the air, “are a thing now.”</p><p>“Schedules? What are they? They’re a social construct for me,” Jisung jokes, “how was it though?”</p><p>Minho eats the stuffing as he thinks. “It was fun, but there was no time to actually get to the deeper stuff, you know.” He gathers the outer layer of the dumpling. “What!” he laughs, “why are you looking at me like that? I’m just trying to figure out the flavours.”</p><p>“That’s a massacre,” Jisung tells him. “But, yeah hyung. I’m sorry that you couldn’t meet anyone except me.” </p><p>“It’s a great pain,” Minho’s voice is flat but there’s laughter at the corners of his mouth, “to have met you twice. But maybe I’ll get to meet them some other time.” He takes a sip of water, slides the last piece towards Jisung. “Who knows?”</p><p>Jisung thinks of the talk he has to have with Hyunjin and he is abruptly aware of the weight of his phone in his pocket, his last message to Hyunjin gathering dust. “When we were in our last semester,” Jisung says, “Seungmin told me that we all have places for each other in our hearts. And that if we chose, then we can find our place again.”</p><p>Minho’s eyes are intent. The furniture pulls the sound of the city towards it, holds it close and what reaches Jisung is a mere susurration. In such silence, Jisung’s skin prickles as if suddenly exposed. He watches Minho pick up the container with their main dish. </p><p>Minho prises the lid open. “He told that to me too,” he says as he inspects their main dish with great intensity.</p><p>“Oh.” Jisung shifts in embarrassment. It feels like they’re waiting for the echo of a secret to fade. “Seungminnie’s really wise. Don’t tell him I praised him though.”</p><p>Minho serves a portion of the dish to Jisung.  “He really is,” his voice is fond and indulgent. “This is kind of like the English class we took, isn’t it,” he laughs. “We discussed vaguely philosophical things all the time instead of doing our work.”</p><p>Jisung feels like he’s under his blankets again, warm and safe and on the edge of spilling his guts to Minho, who always seems close even if he is miles away. “Yeah, we’ve always been like that.” </p><p>Minho shakes his head in what Jisung hopes is fondness. “Enough of this sappy talk. You know what we should do?” Minho says. “We should go through our old photos!”</p><p>Jisung freezes. “No! Why,” he whines.</p><p>Minho scrambles to his feet. He’s grinning and his cheeks bunch under his eyes. “Because all this talk about English class made me want to revisit it.”</p><p>“It was one sentence!”</p><p>“Too bad!” Minho bounds away leaving Jisung to eat in painful anticipation.</p><p>Minho brings back his laptop. “You’re lucky that I always carry my hard drive with me,” he says, sitting down again. He opens his laptop and enters the password.</p><p>“No, I am not,” Jisung grumbles.</p><p>───────</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: safe journey hyung </p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: drink all the complementary stuff you get (¬‿¬)</p><p><strong>Minho</strong>: I’ll try to honour your wishes 🍸</p><p><strong>Minho</strong>: I’m glad we could meet, Sungie</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: me too hyung</p><p>───────</p><p>The apartment complex is one of the older ones around here, but it doesn’t look like it will fall apart any time soon. Chan’s friend is nice and easy to talk to and she finishes the tour of her apartment in ten minutes.</p><p>The flat is small and a bit cramped, but there’s a window that lets in a fair amount of sunlight, and Jisung doesn’t spot any obvious signs of vermin. Plus, it doesn’t look haunted, so Jisung makes his decision within twenty minutes. Unwise, yes, but he is tired of looking at photos of rooms and the very thought of trekking all over the city makes him exhausted. Besides, he reasons, if Chan and Changbin stay here then it couldn’t be all that bad.</p><p>The cafe nearby is half empty when Jisung enters. It’s just quarter to five right now, so people haven’t started trickling out of their offices yet. He’s supposed to go to Chan’s apartment only at half past five and since apartment-looking gets over sooner than he expects, he has time to kill.</p><p>He looks around, spots a couple of freelancing types, and sends blessings their way. Back when Jisung had just started freelancing after college, he used to go to cafes often, intent on cranking out thousands of words. But it turned out that the atmosphere of cafes made him fancy himself an author, and he spent more time writing stories that went nowhere rather than working. Now, he hunches over his laptop like a gremlin in his flat and procrastinates without spending money.</p><p>He collects his coffee and takes a seat at the back. He glances out of the window next to him, watches people pour out of some of the offices surrounding the street. Other corporate buildings loom over the ones who dare escape while the sun is still up. A flock of birds have taken perch on a statue, unbothered by their trespass.</p><p>He thinks of his musty apartment, guzzling his money during his absence, and now forlorn and withered after his absence. He thinks of the last time he’d met Chan and Changbin – January, this year, at a new year’s party. It had been a truncated gathering of their friend group and they hadn’t spoken much then either, too smashed to make conversation. As he watches the birds, he decides that he wants to invite them to the place he has for them in his heart again. People drift away, yes, and sometimes you can’t help it, but what’s wrong in letting them know that there’s still space for them?</p><p>He takes out his phone. </p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: Hey, Hyunjin. When can we talk?</p><p>───────</p><p>Changbin’s face lights up when he opens the door. Jisung steps into the threshold, suddenly a bit shy and keeps his eyes trained on his shoes as he takes them off. Changbin pulls him into a bear hug the moment he places his feet on the ground and nearly lifts him off the ground.</p><p>Jisung chokes out a laugh. “Hyung! We’ll fall!”</p><p>“I haven’t seen you in so long,” Changbin says, steadying him on his feet.</p><p>Jisung flushes. “Yeah, well. I guess we all got busy.”</p><p>“Everyone is busy these days,” Changbin sighs and ushers him to the living room. This apartment is more spacious than the one he just saw. The decor is a clash of styles and there are plants in every corner. It looks cozy and smells homely and Jisung loves it. </p><p>Changbin takes charge of the conversation which Jisung is glad for. They rehash the old information: Changbin’s work as a radio jockey is going pretty well; Chan’s got an adorable bunch of students this year; Jisung wants to kill his clients. Changbin tells him that he has started a podcast that is doing okay, and that he tries to keep in touch with everyone but, “it isn’t always possible because we’ve all entered that stage where we’re making progress in our careers right?”</p><p>A cold fist squeezes his lungs because, no, some aren’t. He ignores it. “Being busy is a blindfold, isn’t it?” he says instead, “time passes and you don’t even see it happening.”</p><p>Changbin tilts his head to the side. “That’s true. I guess I never thought of it that way.” He clicks open his phone and checks the time. “I swear he just finds something that has to be done every time he turns a corner,” he mutters. “Anyway, I’ll get us something. What do you want?”</p><p>“Oh, um nothing?”</p><p>“Nah,” Changbin pushes himself up from his seat. “Pick something.”</p><p>“But–”</p><p>Changbin raises a brow and crosses his arms. “I’m trying to make my mom proud by being the host that she always wanted me to be. Don’t throw water on her dreams, Jisung.”</p><p>Jisung laughs in delight. Changbin is broader and looks more intimidating than ever, but his pout is still the same. “Coffee? A little, please.”</p><p>Changbin beckons Jisung to follow him so he does, thinking about one of the photos that Minho’s hard drive held. It was a photo of Changbin making moon eyes at the barista of a café that they all used to go to. Chan was sitting next to him, making faces. Jisung smiles.</p><p>He checks his phone as Changbin switches on the coffee maker. Nothing. Only an annoying client who has texted him after his working hours. Jisung shoves it into his pocket with a scowl and leans against the counter. “I’ve decided to take the flat, by the way.”</p><p>Changbin makes an amused sound as he stands on his toes to get mugs. “Did you even look at any other place?”</p><p>“Yeah, online.” He grins when Changbin rolls his eyes. “I’ve never made a good decision in my life, so why start now?”</p><p>Changbin pours coffee into the mugs and Jisung feels his shoulders relax when the scent of coffee drifts to him. “You’re lucky that Chan hyung knows everyone and everyone loves him.”</p><p>He takes the milk jug – milk jug! Such an adult utensil! – and pours a little into his mug and watches it swirl. “Maybe my stars don’t hate me that much then.”</p><p>Changbin blinks at him. “I don’t think the stars hate anyone?”</p><p>The door opens then and Chan enters in a flurry of apologies and a beaming smile. He is dressed more conservatively than Jisung has ever seen him and his hair is shorter too. It’s a respectable brown, unlike Changbin’s shock of silver hair. “My colleague needed help with something at the last moment,” he explains, sounding rueful even though he isn’t all that late.</p><p>Changbin snorts and pours coffee in another mug. “Yeah, your colleague sure does need last minute help.”</p><p>“Hey, she’s not that bad and not everyone is like you, Binnie,” Chan’s accepts his coffee with an affectionate smile, “they can’t complete five hundred projects well ahead of time.”</p><p>“I think that’s you, hyung,” Changbin says.</p><p>“It’s certainly not me,” Jisung shares and flushes when both turn to him, looking surprised.</p><p>“Do you still ask Hyunjin to hide your phone somewhere so that you,” he mimes double quotes with his fingers and then turns and walks to the living room, “are not actually lying when your advisor texts you for an update and you ignore it?”</p><p>Jisung sniffs and pretends to be offended as he trails after him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Also, Hyunjin isn’t willing to be a part of his schemes anymore, is he?</p><p>Chan and Changbin laugh, and it feels like he took his eyes off for a moment after looking at them for a long time, and finding myriad new details as he looks again. Like a document that glitches as it loads all the new changes.</p><p>Chan drops his bag into a pink wing chair and loosens his tie. “Remember that time when Changbin chugged… eight or more energy drinks and sent conspiracy theories on his class group?” Chan’s eyes crinkle in amusement, and he rolls the tie around his fist.</p><p>“And the class rep kicked me out of the group just because she couldn’t handle the truth,” Changbin whines. He pauses, sips his drink. “Can you believe how we were in college?”</p><p>Jisung nods as he leans against the sofa cushion. “It seems like another time – I mean it <em>was</em>, but it is just surreal when you think about it with all that we know now.”</p><p>“Such wise words from our Sungie,” Chan toasts him with his mug.</p><p>“It’s surreal when I think about it with what I know about him,” Changbin says with a poorly hidden laugh.</p><p>Jisung pouts at him. “I’m beginning to regret my decision to move here.”</p><p>“Wait for a while, you’ll regret it even more,” Changbin says and Jisung knows right then that he won’t.</p><p>───────</p><p>After he goes back to his flat, Jisung spends the rest of the evening typing hurriedly so that he can finish all his pending commissions before he starts packing. As he is writing, his phone trills, and he’s so dazed that it takes him a while to string the characters together and understand it as ‘Hyunjin.’ He stares at his phone, stomach dropping into a cold abyss and his breath freezing.</p><p>He presses the answer button, puts the phone on speaker and laces his fingers together and holds them near his chest.</p><p>“Hello?” Hyunjin says, sounding shocked.</p><p>“Hello,” Jisung replies, equally shocked.</p><p>Silence. 0:10. 0:12. 0:16.</p><p>“How… are you?” Hyunjin asks, voice wobbling with uncertainty.</p><p>Just as uncertain, Jisung says, “Good? I am kind of going to move out?”</p><p>“Oh. That’s great.”</p><p>Silence. 0:20. 0:23. 0:24.</p><p>“How’re you?” Jisung asks and at the same time Hyunjin says, “are you busy?”</p><p>Hyunjin’s laugh is a nervous bleat. “I’m good. Good. Fine. Um, are you busy?”</p><p>“No!” Jisung slaps a hand on his mouth and squeezes his eyes shut, “I mean I am a bit busy, but that’s okay.” He goggles at his phone, thumb finding his forefinger and his other hand clutching the fabric of his t-shirt.</p><p>“Are you free tomorrow evening?” Hyunjin's voice is quiet. “We can meet at the park near our, um – ex apartment.”</p><p>“Yeah, yeah ok.”</p><p>“Okay. Cool.”</p><p>“Text me the time?”</p><p>“Yeah, okay, cool.”</p><p>Silence. 0:52. 0:55.</p><p>“Bye?”</p><p>“Bye.”</p><p>───────</p><p>
  <strong> <em>Excerpt: Untitled Journal Entry</em> </strong>
</p><p>Summer night –</p><p>even the stars</p><p>are whispering to each other</p><p>                                    - Kobayashi Issa</p><p>What did the stars whisper to each other this summer as they looked at me even when I refused to look at them? I have been thinking, that if a part of our soul does indeed look at us in our present moment, then mine would be shocked by the way things are. Even as I rage at my past self for being lackadaisical, the truth is that I don’t have any answers to offer my future self either.</p><p>───────</p><p>Hyunjin is standing next to a lamppost. The only difference between the two of them is that the wind ruffles Hyunjin’s hair. Jisung notices that Hyunjin has not cut it, but has had his roots touched up.</p><p>He weaves past screaming children, parents, and stragglers, makes his way towards the lamppost. Hyunjin spots him and raises a hand in a wave, makes an aborted motion, then drops it.</p><p>“Hi,” Jisung says and fixes the parting of his hair. His hair is growing too.</p><p>“Hi.” Hyunjin nods. He’s dressed in a stylish raincoat – how can raincoats even be stylish? – and a beret. Hyunjin shuffles his feet and then touches his face as his gaze darts away from Jisung.</p><p>He’s so familiar and Jisung has <em>missed</em> him. He clears his throat and studies his shoes. They’re old and spattered with mud. His index finger is sore, and his umbrella is decorated with chipmunks. Jisung wants the wind to sweep him off his feet and take him back to his flat. He sighs and peeps at Hyunjin, finds his gaze fixed somewhere beyond the horizon.</p><p>“Should we walk?” he asks after the stretching silence starts to wear thin. Hyunjin’s head jerks in a nod. Jisung picks a path at random and starts walking with Hyunjin sloping along beside him. <em>God, please end me</em>, he thinks, <em>or end this awkwardness. But it’ll be easier to take me out.</em></p><p>“So, um – about what happened,” Hyunjin begins and then pauses as he fiddles with his beret.</p><p>A child rushes past Jisung, his harried grandmother following him, loudly scolding. Out of the corner of his eyes, he sees Hyunjin take off his beret and fix locks of his hair, head ducked to the side.</p><p>Frustration bubbles in Jisung’s chest. This silence between them is unnatural and when he looks at Hyunjin, the hurt comes flooding back and knocks whatever serenity he’s has gathered after a long stay at home. “Yes? Are you ever going to explain yourself or?”</p><p>Hyunjin inhales sharply and his voice is controlled but the edges are sharp. “I’m collecting my thoughts.”</p><p>“Was easy for you to yell at me,” Jisung mutters.</p><p>“For fuck’s –” A lady turns around to look at them. Hyunjin clamps his mouth shut. He stops by a tree. “Don’t – just… let’s not fight, please. I just don’t know where to start.” Then he points a finger at Jisung and then at himself, “this thing – this fight, it’s difficult.”</p><p>Jisung’s heartbeat echoes in his ear. His face is flaming, fuelled by anger. “I don’t even know what I did! One day you just didn’t want to be friends anymore!” he hisses because a lot of people are slowing down and gazing at them in interest. “You think it isn’t difficult for me?”</p><p>Beyond Hyunjin, children are playing, and the rising wind rustles the leaves of the trees, carries the sound of people who aren’t visible. The silence in the two feet of space between him and Hyunjin is thick.</p><p>Hyunjin folds his arms and hunches his shoulders. “Can we go somewhere else? I feel uncomfortable talking here.” His nose is reddening and Jisung’s heart aches.</p><p>He bites his lips, thinking. “There’s a tea shop nearby,” he says.</p><p>“Okay. I’m – I’m sorry. I didn’t think that… I didn’t realise that this would be a bad idea,” Hyunjin mumbles, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s more crowded than I expected.”</p><p>Jisung starts walking because he has no idea what is happening. Hyunjin looks defeated and he’s wound so tightly into himself that dread creeps at the back of Jisung’s neck. “They’re enjoying the weather before it gets too cold.”</p><p>“Makes sense.”</p><p>Jisung swings his rolled-up umbrella, the chipmunks leers flashing with the movement. Sweat lines his hairline even though the air is cold. The walk to the tea shop is silent and Jisung keeps sneaking glances at Hyunjin but his hair is long enough to obscure his face from view, so all Jisung can do is keep moving ahead.</p><p>The tea shop is filled with students and their giggles echo louder than the music that is playing from the speakers. It’s bubble-gum pop and this entire situation is so ridiculous that Jisung wants to laugh. They get a table near a mint green wall and Jisung picks up the menu and studies it.</p><p>“I quit my job,” Hyunjin announces, smacking his beret on the table, “I quit a week after I moved out.”</p><p>Jisung’s head snaps up and he blinks and blinks again because this is…unexpected. It’s not even unexpected, it’s beyond the realm of his conscious thought. “What?”</p><p>Hyunjin buries his face in his hands for a moment and laughs and it is a watery, wavering sound. He straightens up. “Yes, I quit my job because I was going <em>crazy</em>.” He crosses his arms and hunches his shoulder, “all I wanted to do was dance but the people – it was <em>terrible,</em> Jisung and I couldn’t…” He exhales harshly, and his nose reddens again. “I rage quit.” He laughs that ugly laugh again. “There’s a notice period and all, but yeah, I rage quit.”</p><p>The waitress appears then and she looks from Hyunjin to him, and nervously tucks her hair behind her ear. Hyunjin smiles at her, but she clutches her notepad to her chest and takes a step back. “Sorry, I don’t want to disturb you!”</p><p>“No – uh,” Jisung scans the menu, eyes skipping over the items, “I’ll have a hot chocolate and you?”</p><p>“Same. Thanks.” Hyunjin plucks a tissue and presses it to his nose. The waitress nods and scurries away without a second look.</p><p>What do you say to your friend who looks like they’re going to cry after telling you that they quit their job because they couldn’t take it anymore? “I thought it all settled down,” Jisung says and then winces. Amazing. “You didn’t mention it much this year.”</p><p>Hyunjin snorts and rubs his eyes. “Would you believe me if I said that I was embarrassed?” When he opens his eyes, they are bloodshot but dry.</p><p>Jisung licks his lips and picks at the corner of the menu card. “Why would you be embarrassed? I would’ve helped you, you know that, right?”</p><p>“I can’t explain it – I can’t explain what ostracization feels like. It’s – it’s humiliating and just so breaking. It chips at you and chips at you and you just end up broken.” Hyunjin is shredding his napkin now. “I complained last year.”</p><p>The waitress deposits their hot chocolate on the table and vanishes before Jisung can even thank her. He drags his cup towards himself and wraps the numb fingers of his right hand around it.</p><p>Hyunjin stirs his hot chocolate with a spoon. “And they got sneakier, you know? I couldn’t even explain after that because it was just so… I wanted to cry but I couldn’t tell what hurt me,” he shakes his head, “and I’d spend the entire ride home fuming and when I got back, I’d see you and–”</p><p>“And?”</p><p>Hyunjin fingers dwarf the tiny stirring spoon and the veins on his knuckles flex a he tightens his grip. “It would all vanish. I just felt so ashamed of telling you that I…  just wouldn’t. And I didn’t want to feel small everywhere. Not at our flat too.”</p><p><em>I felt small at our flat</em>, Jisung thinks, but he doesn’t say it out loud. His mind is still reeling with the realization that even as they shared the same space, Hyunjin had lived in an entirely different world.</p><p>Hyunjin sips his drink and hums. “This is good. It’s rich.” The song changes to yet another upbeat song. It has started raining and Jisung pats his umbrella, briefly pleased by his decision to dig it out of his closet.</p><p>“And is that why you were… like that?” Jisung releases his forefinger and soothes the sting by pressing it against the warm ceramic. “Because you felt ashamed? Were you taking it out on me?” He can’t bring himself to drink because his stomach is a knotting and squeezing.</p><p>The staff switch on the fairy lights as the sky continue to darken and flecks of light fall on their table. Hyunjin places his cup back on the table. “Yes and no. I just wanted to hide away and feel safe for some time, but you would –”</p><p>“Right.”</p><p>Hyunjin rubs his face. “It felt like you were doing it on purpose… minimizing it and just stressing me out more. But after talking to my counsellor, I realised that I expected you to know everything and act accordingly even though I never told you how bad things were getting…”</p><p>Jisung interrupts him. “I didn’t.” He exhales. “One day you – you started talking about how you have a partner now and work events and–”</p><p>“I know, I’m <em>sorry</em>. I was a dick.” Hyunjin sniffles and his voice is thin and brittle when he says, “I told you for months that  –  and I know that I wasn’t actually communicating properly – that I want to be left alone and you were just like, ‘hey let’s go to this mochi place that’s fucking five hours away and we came back at one and I had the worst practice of my life at five and I was so <em>angry</em>.”</p><p>“I didn’t know!” Jisung hisses and his eyes are burning now because this vice like grip of guilt is too much. He hates it. “It was the traffic!”</p><p>“I know!” Hyunjin reaches forward and grasps Jisung’s hands and shakes it. “I don’t blame you, but that’s how I felt and I’m so sorry, Jisung. The last couple of months…” Hyunjin ducks his head, his shoulders curving lower, “I was so angry and frustrated.” He shakes his head, “I felt like everything was crumbling around me and no one understood me.”</p><p>“I’m sorry too,” Jisung whispers. He squeezes Hyunjin’s hand as his mind flips through vague recollections of the times he forced Hyunjin to hang out with him. That new year’s party. That networking event. His stomach churns, and he feels cold. All that while Hyunjin had been miserable. He doesn’t know what to say.</p><p>“It just got really toxic and I became toxic too, I guess,” Hyunjin says miserably as he untangles their hands.</p><p>Jisung flinches, heart dropping to his feet. He swallows the lump in his throat and stares beyond Hyunjin, his thumb spearing his index finger so hard that his fingers feel numb. “Don’t say that. You–”</p><p>“No.” Hyunjin’s hair swings around his face as he shakes it. “I’m not trying to give excuses and you don’t have to forgive me or anything. It – it <em>was</em> toxic and sometimes friendships become toxic even if… even if the people aren’t toxic themselves. It happens sometimes because of the situation or like, life but still, I’m an adult and… yeah.”</p><p>Jisung slumps in his chair. “I don’t know about… this toxic business. I just know that you were a dick.” He waits and relief jolts his heart when Hyunjin snickers. “And I understand why you were a dick even if it doesn’t justify it.”</p><p>Hyunjin looks at him with eyes that are filled with hope, but his face pulls tight a moment later. “Can we,” he pauses, “can we be friends again?”</p><p>“We always were, Hyunjin-ah,” Jisung replies.</p><p>───────</p><p>“Doyeon suggested that I should visit a counselling psychologist because I wasn’t able to think with all the noise in my head.”</p><p>The park is eerie and silent late in the evening with only a slow wind that makes noise as it rattles branches and leftover leaves. “Do you like it?”</p><p>Hyunjin shrugs. “I can make sense of things now. It’s nice to speak to someone with no stakes attached.”</p><p>Jisung nods. Light from the lamps glimmer on streaks of water that line their path. A child’s loud laughter drifts toward them, followed by the braying creak of a see-saw. “How is it going with Doyeon?” He shifts his eyes towards Hyunjin.</p><p>Hyunjin’s lips curve up into a small, contended smile. “Good. Doyeon means a lot to me,” he says and Jisung thinks that it says it all. “Hey, do you want to sit on the swings? There’s no one here.”</p><p>The chains of the swing are cold. Jisung doesn’t remember the last time he sat on a swing set. It was his favourite when he was young. “Do you ever think of what would’ve happened if you hadn’t come to that astronomy club orientation.” He kicks his feet against the ground and swings back and forth, back and forth in a lulling rhythm.</p><p>The swing is too low for Hyunjin and Jisung snorts when he sees how awkwardly his legs are folded. “I don’t know; I’ve never thought of it that way.”</p><p>“I am thinking, if the past intertwines with the present–” he doesn’t complete his sentence. “You know what, it happened… we’ve met and now I’ve gotta deal with it, I guess.”</p><p>Hyunjin pushes his shoulder. “You better.” But it is uncertain, quiet.</p><p>“I have no choice,” Jisung says, pushing higher. When Jisung was young, he used to keep asking his father to push him higher and higher, too enamoured by the rush of wind on his face to fear falling. <em>Do you want to fall into the stars</em>, <em>Jisungie</em>? his father used to tease.</p><p>As he grew, the fear of falling and becoming a splatter on hard, unyielding ground dampened the joy of having wind on his face. As he kicks off the ground as high as he can go, he thinks that he might never fall into the stars, but there’s always a wind, even at the lowest height, to make him think that he’s flying.</p><p>───────</p><p>
  <strong>section ix: in motion </strong>
</p><p>(movement and momentum)</p><p>“That’s it,” Jisung says, switching from the back camera to the front. He fluffs his hair and hopes that his dishevelment is not obvious to Minho.</p><p>Minho claps, the sound breaking off and echoing in Jisung’s apartment in jagged pieces. He smacks the Wi-Fi adapter with his finger and sighs, shuffling from foot to foot as he waits for the connection to stabilize. Two pale rays of light stream in from the window and become one on the floor. Jisung thinks of the video Minho had sent of his cats yesterday, the downy hair on their bellies glinting as they basked in the sunlight.</p><p>“Your Wi-Fi is shit,” Minho complains. “Wait I’ll call you.”</p><p>Jisung walks to the kitchen and opens the cabinets. Their doors have scratches that makes them look like they’re frowning, and they screech as they open. This apartment reeks of age, but it is worn in a way that comes across as charming. Chan’s friend moved out yesterday, and Jisung pokes at a dusty silhouette of an absent sofa’s legs. There’s no furniture as such, and Jisung already knows that his house is going to be a study in minimalism.</p><p>“You’re staying alone for the first time, aren’t you?” Minho says when Jisung accepts his call.</p><p>“Not really, I mean I lived with a stranger during first year,” Jisung smooths his hand over a section of the cream wall, “but yeah, I am living <em>alone</em> alone for the first time.”</p><p>Minho hums, “A new experience, huh? It’ll different. Fun. I think you know a space more intimately when you live alone.”</p><p>“Intimately?” Jisung chews his lips. “Do you mean that I can walk around naked now?”</p><p>Jisung can’t hear anything in Minho’s background and neither can Minho, he supposes. But it feels odd somehow, to only hear Minho without any context wrapping around him and softening him some, giving some allusion about his life.</p><p>Minho’s laugh makes something tug below his navel. Maybe because he has observed the new lines and notes in Minho’s laughter at that dinner and it fascinates him.  “It’ll sound pretentious, but,” Minho makes a chuffing sound, “you give meaning to things right, so when you live with someone it’s a shared meaning because they influence your perception of the space, but when you’re alone...”</p><p>“You alone give meaning to your space,” Jisung finishes. He’s in the bedroom now, and he studies the ceiling. “When did you get so wise, hyung?”</p><p>“When I read that <em>one</em> philosophy quote by Camus on social media,” Minho drawls and then giggles. “In the depth of winter, I finally learned that within me there’s an invincible summer,” Minho says in English, pitching his voice deep and caressing the dips and peaks of each word. He sounds like he has a cold.</p><p>“Much philosophy, much wow,” Jisung teases as he taps the window pane before moving to the living room again.</p><p>“My book will be coming out soon,” Minho jokes, “I’ll shock the world with my philosophy.”</p><p>The landlady’s grandson knocks on the open door, looking bored. “Grandma’s waiting for you,” he mumbles and toddles off without waiting for any acknowledgement.</p><p>“Oh, shit. I gotta go, I have to sign the lease.”</p><p>“Good luck, Jisungie,” Minho says.</p><p>Jisung always feels like he’s signing away a part of his soul when he’s bound to a contract. He flips through the lease as the landlady jiggles a yo-yo, trying to get it to behave. The grandson is sprawled on the sofa, and he looks up from his phone ever so often and rolls his eyes upwards. Jisung feels strangely foolish with his bright yellow sweater and his glasses. Like a child playing at being an adult.</p><p>Not finding anything damning in his five-minute flip through, he signs the agreement. His signature looks tiny on the paper and he thinks how decisions borne out of so much confusion and heartache are reduced to his initials. He caps the pen with a click and pushes the contract towards the landlady, his fingertips tingling.</p><p>When Jisung is out of the door but not out of hearing range, hears the boy mutter, “my eyes hurt. Why was his sweater so <em>yellow</em>?”</p><p>He decides that it’s a compliment, but flips him off mentally anyway.</p><p>───────</p><p>
  <strong> <em>Excerpt: Jisung’s notes app</em> </strong>
</p><p>Formal wear (give blue shirt to Lix)</p><p>Iron</p><p>Bedding (foam pillow!)</p><p>Assorted stuff (hanger, hook, shoe rack)</p><p>Books</p><p>Kitchen stuff</p><p>───────</p><p>“Press 1 to check the status of your shipment.”</p><p>“Press 2 to book a pickup.”</p><p>“Press 3 to register a complaint.”</p><p>“Press 4 to talk to an executive.”</p><p>Jisung stabs number four on his phone.</p><p>“You are tenth in the line. You will be connected to an executive in fifteen minutes.”</p><p>“Fucking hell!” Jisung groans.</p><p>───────</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: do you think i can salvage dis</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: [image attached]</p><p><strong>Felix</strong>: the fcuk?</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: socks dumdum</p><p><strong>Felix</strong>: no</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: ok</p><p>───────</p><p><strong>MarbleClient</strong>: Mr. Han, I want the work done by Tuesday</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: Sir, we agreed last Thursday that this week’s article will be sent to you on Friday. I’ve sent you an email outlining the things that we discussed</p><p><strong>MarbleClient</strong>: Don’t be defensive. If you can’t do it just say it.</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: We agreed that the article will be sent by Friday. To provide excellent service, I need time to craft my work to suit your requirements</p><p><strong>MarbleClient</strong>: This is unprofessional</p><p>───────</p><p>“Can I have some of this tiny chocolate?” Jeongin asks, holding up a packet of the expensive chocolate Jisung bought from back home. “Why is it so tiny?”</p><p>“It’s gourmet,” Jisung sniffs, then, “go ahead,” he says, waving a hand.</p><p>Jeongin grins, “thanks, hyung!”</p><p>Jisung turns back to survey the mess of clothes, plucks a midnight blue hoodie and gives it to Hyunjin.</p><p>Hyunjin hugs the hoodie to his chest. “Fuck, I was looking for this for so long!” He folds it properly like a nerd and drops it into the ‘Hyunjin’s lost and found’ box.</p><p>“I hate folding clothes,” Jisung complains. Packing up stuff is stressful and the sheer <em>amount</em> of stuff he has is even more stressful. Jisung wonders how Hyunjin managed to move out without a single complaint in the space of three days. “How did you manage to pack up in three days?”</p><p>“Self-righteous rage,” Hyunjin says as he folds one of Jisung’s tanktops, “and the eagerness to have sex on every single surface of our new place.”</p><p>Jeongin gags. “There’s no common decency left in the world. Hyung, please kick him out.”</p><p>“Hey! I’m actually helping him unlike you.”</p><p>He falls face first into his pile of clothes.  “I'm exhausted. I shouldn’t have decided to move,” he mumbles, turning his neck towards Jeongin with the most pathetic expression that he can muster.</p><p>“Done is done,” Jeongin pops a piece of chocolate into his mouth, rolls a pair of trousers and stuffs it into a cardboard box, “besides you have us helping you,” he pauses, “and Lock, but I don’t know what she’s trying to accomplish by running away with your clothes like that.”</p><p>“She’s exposing his atrocious fashion sense,” Felix chuckles as he enters the bedroom. “Those zebra print boxers were atrocious.” Lock trundles in after him and sniffs at the box that Jisung’s packing. Jisung gives her a stern look and taps her nose.</p><p>Jisung scoffs, even though he’s blushing. “The zebra print makes my bum look fantastic.”</p><p>“Yeah by camouflaging how non-existent your ass is,” Jeongin comments.</p><p>The three of them crow with laughter. Jisung pushes Lock’s snout away from his face, “I hate you all,” he complains.</p><p>───────</p><p>“If I fall and crack my head open…” Jisung warns. The ladder creaks and he glowers at Felix.</p><p>Felix huffs but tightens his grip on the ladder. “Then we’ll know for sure that your head’s filled with hay.”</p><p>“No, you,” Jisung flips him off and goes back to pulling out the stars from the wall. They’re easy to peel because they’re called ‘Luminescent star stickers safe for children and walls. Good for nurseries.’ His neck hurts however and he pauses to massage his neck.</p><p>“Déjà vu,” Felix says, “remember when we moved out of our apartment?”</p><p>He does, indeed. Jisung sings, “then I was young and unafraid, and dreams were made and used and wasted.”</p><p>“Drama queen,” Felix says, “also now that song will be stuck in my head.” Jisung scrapes off another star and lets it flutter to the floor.</p><p>Jisung moves onto the next one. “Life is a drama and I’m the kid who plays the role of a rock.”</p><p>“You've got angst in your pants,” Felix teases, “haven’t you?”</p><p>Jisung flips him off again and Felix pretends to rattle the stool. He shoots Felix a warning glare and begins to peel off the stars again. He pries every single one of them off the ceiling, leaving nothing behind. This is a place that shouldn’t remember him. Jisungie was here, but he’s glad to move out.</p><p>───────</p><p>The movers come a day late, but four hours earlier than the time Jisung was given.</p><p>He stubs his toes on the box marked ‘sweat (pants, shirts and <strike>t</strike> ers)’ five times in his mad rush to stuff everything that’s remaining into the open boxes, and then sealing them. The packing tape is a little shit that:</p><p>a) rolls away from Jisung’s sight the moment he puts it down</p><p>b) pulls the open end to its body and refuses to let go</p><p>Jisung solves the second problem by holding the open end of the tape in his mouth. Then he realises why kidnappers always use scotch tape on their victim’s mouth when he pulls it away a moment later. He shrieks when it rips a bit of his skin from his lips and then licks his lips in a frenzy, trying to soothe the pain.</p><p>He’s frazzled and near tears by the time the movers carry his boxes away. He checks every room to see if he has forgotten anything and his footsteps echo in the barren space. His circuit brings him back to the living room and takes a moment to breathe. The room looks alien without anything cluttering it and the sound of his landlord’s footsteps is easy to hear. He is lurking outside to make sure that Jisung returns his keys. He plucks a piece of tape that’s stuck to his pants and sighs.</p><p>He puts on his shoes, checks all the rooms again and flicks off the lights. He takes a final, sweeping look of the living room before he leaves, the door swinging shut behind him with a creak. He drops the keys into his landlord’s waiting hands and then this space isn’t his anymore.</p><p>───────</p><p>The landlady’s grandson squints at Lock and then at him. “I didn’t know you had a dog,” he says, slouching against the wall near the staircase.</p><p>Lock sneezes on his knee, then stares up at him and wags her tail. The grandson startles, looks at Lock. When she wags her tail harder, he glances at Jisung with a baleful expression. “She sneezed on my knee.”</p><p>Jisung opens his mouth, but he hears footsteps approaching them. They’re standing at the foot of the staircase and it is a cramped space, so Felix’s shoulder bumps against Jisung’s. “Ah, sorry,” Felix says and offers a sheepish smile. “Lock, where are your manners?”</p><p>The grandson’s eyes drift from Jisung to Felix. He freezes and then closes his mouth. In the space of a few seconds, he leaps to attention, brushes his hair back and smiles. “No problem!” His effusiveness is disproportionate to the apology and he’s beaming as if forgiving Felix is the best thing he has achieved today.</p><p>Jisung notices Felix’s polite smile change to one of amusement. “Pets are allowed inside right?” Felix asks and his tone has changed too. “She’s really docile and friendly.”</p><p>Grandson points behind himself and Jisung supposes that he wants to show the board that says, ‘pets allowed’, but his eyes are still fixed on Felix, so he’s pointing at empty space. “Yes, yes, we’re pet friendly.” He shrieks and stumbles back when Lock sniffs his bare toes which are exposed in the sandals he’s wearing. “Ahem.” He straightens himself by grabbing the railing, his face flushed. “Sorry, I’m ticklish.”</p><p>Jisung is blushing <em>for</em> him.</p><p>Felix chuckles. “Yeah, she has really long whiskers! She’s a funny one.”</p><p>“Yes. She’s cute,” grandson agrees, hair flopping into his eyes with the force of his movements.</p><p>“We have to go,” Jisung announces and brushes past the grandson and starts climbing the stairs. He hears Felix say bye and the moment they’re out of earshot, the question comes. “He’s nice. What’s his name?”</p><p>Jisung rolls his eyes. “Find out yourself.”</p><p>───────</p><p>“The landlady’s grandson,” Chan’s eyes are wide, “the sour looking, disinterested one, helped you put your furniture together?”</p><p>Jisung snorts, “he helped <em>Felix</em> put the furniture together.” He helps himself to another slice of the cheesecake. “They flirted over my furniture. Who flirts over furniture?”</p><p>“The youth,” Changbin says, deadpan. “He goes to our college; did you know?”</p><p>“Oh, believe me, I know more about him than I ever need to know. He wouldn’t shut up.”</p><p>Changbin bites his lip and his eyes crinkle in delight. “That’s actually really adorable – anyway where are your chairs and stuff?”</p><p>Jisung stabs a piece of cheesecake. “It’s coming. I just rented some stuff out today.”</p><p>“My back hurts,” Changbin complains, twisting his torso from side to side. “I’m being inconvenienced.” </p><p>“That’s cause you’re old,” Jisung tells him. “I’m not complaining, am I?”</p><p>Changbin groans and flops on his back. “These age jokes are like the most low-effort things possible.” He pokes at Jisung’s ankles with his toes.</p><p>“Hyung,” Jisung whines, scooting away, “stop. Your toes are freezing, hey stop, or I’ll throw you out of my housewarming party.”</p><p>Chan laughs and pats Changbin’s stomach. “What if that’s what Changbin wants?” </p><p>“Then he can go,” Jisung says, waving his fork at Changbin. Then he pouts and stares at Changbin with wide eyes, “but you won’t leave my very well-planned housewarming party, right?”</p><p>Changbin rolls his eyes, but he can’t quite suppress . “Fine, fine. I’ll be a benevolent hyung tonight.”</p><p>Chan places his empty plate on the ground. “I thought that was me.” He grins when Changbin sputters and says, “it doesn’t count when you say it yourself!” </p><p>Jisung places his plate on top of Chan’s and then stacks Changbin’s plate above it. Chan and Changbin start bickering and their huffs and teasing words echo in the empty living room. Jisung hadn’t planned this, but he’d baked a cheesecake and then decided that he didn’t want to eat alone today. It had warmed him when they accepted his invitation, and dregs of it glow as he watches them snipe at each other. He blinks when Chan turns to him.</p><p>“We should ask Jisung,” Chan points at him, “he’s the dongsaeng here, so he can tell us who is the most benevolent hyung.”</p><p>“I’m non – partisan,” Jisung protests, “I don’t play favourites.”</p><p>Changbin squints at him, lacing his hands behind his head. “Really? When Minho hyung visited he was saying that you consider him your favourite.”</p><p>His cheeks flame even though there’s no reason for that. He really hopes that it isn’t obvious. “I’m his favourite,” he tries to affect nonchalance, “it’s not the other way round.”</p><p>Changbin exchanges an amused glance with Chan. “You know hyung said that he’s your favourite and not the other way around? Basically, the same thing you’re saying.”</p><p>Jisung gathers the plates because he suddenly doesn’t know what to do with his hands and raises a brow. “And why were you talking about me?”</p><p>“He was talking about how you both made up,” Changbin waggles his brows and sits up, “he was really pleased.”</p><p>Jisung stands and his stomach swoops. Yeah, Minho had told him that he was glad when they’d met, but the fact that he’d said this to someone else too makes him smile like a fool. “I’m pleased too,” he says. “I think it was a long time coming.”</p><p>Changbin regards him with an inscrutable look. “I think it is. More than you know.”</p><p>Jisung doesn’t know what to make of that so he just looks at him quizzically. Changbin doesn’t say anything more and Chan is considering Changbin with a strange expression. Both of them don’t say anything more, so Jisung shrugs and goes to the kitchen.</p><p>───────</p><p><strong>Mom</strong>: Unpack immediately. Don’t leave it till the last moment as usual.</p><p><strong>Mom</strong>: Also, did you order a nightstand?</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: yes and why do i need a nightstand?? i’m poor ok</p><p><strong>Mom</strong>: You’re not poor to afford a nightstand</p><p><strong>Mom</strong>: You’re an adult now and there’s no one to clean up the mess if you spill the mug of coffee that you’ve kept on the floor and then slip and fall.</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: it happened once!!! </p><p> </p><p>───────</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: do you want to</p><p>(backspace)</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: what do you think about</p><p>(backspace)</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: let’s get dinner?</p><p>(backspace)</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: hey, let me know if it’s possible to get dinner sometime this week.</p><p><strong>Hyunjin</strong>: Saturday at 8?</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: yeah cool!</p><p>───────</p><p>
  <strong>Excerpt: Jisung’s notes app</strong>
</p><p>Just suggest things.</p><p>Listening skills!!</p><p>Emphasize, don’t advise</p><p>???</p><p>───────</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: so…</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: i heard that you’ve been going around telling everyone that you’re my favourite (~_^)</p><p><strong>Minho</strong>: You mean I’m telling the truth</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: the audacity! </p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: only Lock is my favourite</p><p><strong>Minho</strong>: How does Lock feel about it?</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: honoured, im sure</p><p><strong>Minho</strong>: Of course. Anyway you know my birthday is coming up</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: is it ⊙.☉</p><p><strong>Minho</strong>: 🙄🙄🙄</p><p><strong>Minho</strong>: will you be free around afternoon</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: yeah?</p><p><strong>Minho</strong>: Good we can do a video call</p><p><strong>Minho</strong>: I want to show you something and no you cannot ask what it is</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: :(</p><p>───────</p><p>“I was talking about my dickhead boss today with my counsellor.” Hyunjin serves a portion of rice to Jisung. “Did I tell you that he’s much, much better,” he rolls his eyes, “now that I have shown <em>exponential growth</em>. He’s very encouraging and full of praises as if he didn’t make me cry and then call me a spineless leech.” His cheeks fill with colour, and he breathes out before he serves himself.</p><p>Jisung spears a potato. “He’s an asshole who is not worth your time.”</p><p>Hyunjin sighs, pushes the heap of food on his plate. “I know. That’s what we discussed actually, that just because I improved doesn’t mean that his methods were justified. Do you remember how he yelled at me during that show we did last December?”</p><p>Jisung winces. He remembers that incident because Hyunjin had said that day, “don’t talk to me or I will snap and say ugly things.” He had never seen Hyunjin so enraged. “You don’t deserve all this,” he waves his spoon, “bullshit.</p><p>Hyunjin inclines his head. “Yeah, I mean I knew that there’s a lot of competition in performing arts,” he says, frowning. “I thought my talent would speak for itself or whatever, but the politics,” he shudders. “I don’t know about other companies, of course, but these people were vicious.”</p><p>“Some people just suck to their core.” Jisung takes a bite of food, “they exist just to make others miserable.”</p><p>Hyunjin’s face turns glum and his shoulder bunch up till his ears. “And for a while I thought that braving this fucked up mess was being grown up and tough.” He looks exhausted, “and maybe that’s what it is, but I don’t want it. I don’t want to get involved in all the politics.”</p><p>“I understand,” Jisung says, patting his hand and hopes that it is comforting. He has no experience with organizational politics except for internships, and he was so low in the pecking order, that he’d just been a block of wood that had to make interested noises when his boss vented.</p><p>Hyunjin’s mouth turns down at the corners. “It’s screwed up that talent alone doesn’t help you.”</p><p>This, Jisung definitely understands. “I know right. Turns out that knowing how to write doesn’t make you a successful freelance content writer.”</p><p>“Please tell me that you got at least one decent client in the past two months.”</p><p>“I haven’t unlocked that achievement yet,” Jisung scowls. “And I don’t know how to.” Once he’d met a successful graphic designer and they’d hit it off. She had told him that he needed to find his niche and to cultivate a clientele that would lead him there. It sounded like good advice, but it was vague so he’d asked her to elaborate. She had become vaguer and it was only later that Jisung understood, no one gives their secrets away.</p><p>And that, is another thing that everyone knew but no one told him about. “I don’t know,” he repeats when the silence wears thin.</p><p>Hyunjin groans. “Let’s go out for a drink after this? Please, I need a drink.”</p><p>“I thought that you’d never ask.”</p><p>───────</p><p>“So, my friend suggested this place, and said it’s a hidden gem. I paid that kindness forward, I guess,” Chan says as he compares the prices of two bottles of ketchup. </p><p>Jisung nods, leaning on the handle of his cart. “It is. I really like this place, hyung. Thank you for saving me.”</p><p>Chan smiles fondly. “There’s no need for thanks. I actually didn’t know that things were so serious between Hyunjin and Doyeon and that they’d moved in together,” he holds up the bottles and squints at their colour. “Goes to show how easy it is to drift away.”</p><p>Jisung straightens up and picks at a sticker that's stuck to the handle. He purses his lips as he considers what to say. “Sometimes, I think drifting away gives perspective,” he studies Chan and finds only warmth. It blots out the prickle of creeping foolishness. “Like, a different space helps you think better.” He laughs, shaking his head. “I’m just saying this because I basically wasted a month’s worth of rent trying to get perspective.”</p><p>Chan juts his bottom lip out as he thinks. “Space does give perspective, doesn’t it? And time too,” He puts away the bottles and moves farther ahead towards a display of discounted ketchup. “And sometimes we end up doing things that may seem strange to us in hindsight,” he swivels his head to catch Jisung’s eyes. “But, if it helped us at that point, can we complain?”</p><p>He hadn’t even known that he’s tense until it evaporates and comfort settles in its wake. “Yeah. I suppose.” The ketchup stack looms over them, gleaming with an unearthly red colour. “How it’s like living with Changbin hyung?”</p><p>Chan smiles softly, “it’s wonderful. We were always close but we drifted apart for a bit after I graduated and now that we’re living together, it’s –” he pauses, “it’s different. It’s like seeing him in a new light, you know? And it’s nice to know these sides of him.” </p><p>Same but different. The familiar as unfamiliar. “I know what you mean, hyung.”</p><p>Chan picks up two bottles and puts them in the cart. “This is so cheap!”</p><p>Jisung stares at the bottle. “Are you sure?” he hesitates, “it kind of looks like it has three bottles of food colouring poured into it. There are other knock-offs that are better, you know.”</p><p>Chan waves a hand. “It’s all the same stuff. Now let’s go get vegetables.”</p><p>───────</p><p>Jisung glares at two pimples that have erupted on the apple of his cheek. Why on god’s green earth is he breaking out in his twenties. He gently runs a finger over the bumps. “You have to get your shit together, epidermis.”</p><p>He hums to himself and picks up his shaving brush. He lathers the cream on his chin, cheeks and neck until he has a thick white beard of foam. He plays around with the lather, shaping it by shaving in such a way that it looks like a French beard, then a moustache and finally a goatee. He decides that he would look best with a moustache.</p><p>He uncaps his tube of spot treatment cream but squeezes out more than he requires and it slops over his finger. His reflection shakes his head at him. He sticks his tongue out and giggles, amused by his ridiculousness. He is in a good mood today even though he has five calls scheduled. He can’t remember the last time he felt so playful.</p><p>Once he has distributed the cream across all pimple prone regions, he takes a moment to study his reflection. There’s nothing new to see except that his roots are showing. Even though he’s smiling, he is still so much like Jisung of the past, that his inner, changed self is unable to fathom it. <em>You look the same</em>, Minho had said.</p><p>He fluffs his hair in consideration. Maybe it’s time for a change.</p><p>───────</p><p>Jeongin jumps when the grandson materializes out of the office. “What the fuck.”</p><p>It’s still six o’clock, but darkness is already blotting out the last of daylight. The corridor lights haven’t been switched on yet, so the grandson, Hyunchul – Jisung only knows his name because of Felix – looms in the shadows.</p><p>Hyunchul studies Jeongin for a moment and then turns to Jisung, “rent is due soon.”</p><p>He had texted the same thing on the building-resident’s group, word for word, and had added ominous warnings about not paying rent on time. One of them had been, “my grandmother will not provide confectionary to defaulters.’ “Yeah, I saw the messages,” Jisung says, “and the blackmail about cookies,” he mutters under his breath.</p><p>Hyunchul shoves his hands into his pockets. “Some people believe grandma laces the cookies and stuff with drugs, so it works with them,” he says and pauses, “but I don’t know about this year, drug supplies have been affected.”</p><p>Jisung winces when Jeongin grips his elbow like a vice. “Um – what?”</p><p>Hyunchul ducks his head. “It was a joke,” he grumbles then rocks back on his heels. “You can tell your friends that they’re welcome to take some of grandma’s cookies.” He turns and toddles away before Jisung can even waggle his brows.</p><p>He knows which friends are welcome, alright. “Turn on the lights at least!” he calls, already thinking of ways to tease Felix.</p><p>Light floods the corridor and the office door slams shut. “What the fuck,” Jeongin’s eyes are wide and shocked.</p><p>Jisung squints against the onslaught of light, waiting for his eyes to adjust. “That’s Hyunchul. He’s the local Byronic hero that no one asked for except, maybe, Felix. And he makes terrible jokes too, Felix will be endeared,” he snorts.</p><p>Jeongin mulls over this as Jisung leads him up the stairs. He says, “I don’t want to know,” just as they step into the landing.</p><p>“Fair enough.”</p><p>When Jisung unlocks his door, Jeongin takes off his shoes, lopes off and sprawls on one of them. “Ooh, beanbag.” He burrows deeper into it.</p><p>Jisung sets out the takeout on his brand-new second hand coffee table which he got because his parents demanded photos and he didn’t want them to call him uncouth for not having a coffee table. He clears his throat, “brat.”</p><p>“You’re right!” Jeongin laughs, eyes crinkling.</p><p>After squabbling over which game to play, Jisung realizes that he hasn’t unpacked that yet. So, they argue about which movie to watch. Once the movie is decided, they put it on and promptly forget about it as they start talking.</p><p>“I knew what I was getting into,” Jeongin says, waving his chopsticks, “and I love my subject, I want to make a career in it and all, but no one told me that Masters sucks the life out of you,” he tips his head back and groans. “And like, what even am I supposed to explore when my brain doesn’t even work.”</p><p>Jisung makes a sympathetic noise, “I mean, last year of undergrad itself was mind breaking.”</p><p>“I feel like I am running in circles,” Jeongin sighs and stretches his legs out straight “and I am so busy that I have forgotten myself. You know, I’m feeling guilty about being here even though I haven’t seen you for months just because I have submissions coming up.”</p><p>Jisung hunts through his noodles as he thinks, looking for a piece of chicken. Felix had complained about stress, and Jeongin had very much disappeared for a while. All when Jisung’s own crisis had reached its peak. “Being busy is a blindfold,” he says, half to himself, then blinks, “I mean, of course for you guys it is different because academics is hell, but…” he hesitates, “I should’ve checked up on you guys more often.”</p><p>Jeongin picks up another takeout box, and fiddles with the tape securing the lid. “That’s alright,” he rips the tape off, the sound loud in his apartment, “I know you were going through your own shit.”</p><p>“Yeah, but –” Jisung mixes his noodles together, forlorn, “friendship is supposed to be reciprocal and I lost sight of everything and that’s just.” He thinks about that old man saying that he pitied Jisung’s generation because they had been dealt a shitty hand. “I lost myself in my myopic angst.”</p><p>On his laptop, the two main characters are gazing into each other’s eyes, terrified by some realization. Jisung makes a face, and puts away his noodles and checks his phone to see if his client has replied. Jeongin seems lost in thought,</p><p>“Things cannot be equal at all times,” Jeongin says when the protagonists in the movie start a slow-motion escape, “sometimes we have to take care of ourselves and sometimes we have to take care of the other person. The effort,” Jeongin brushes his hair back with an impatient gesture, “varies depending on the situation.”</p><p>“Probably.” Jisung repeats it again as he observes Jeongin, “probably.” Jeongin looks sad and worn, and he’s clenching his jaw in the way he does when he is stressed and forcing himself to relax. Jisung’s heart throbs when he thinks of all those times they used to scare Jeongin about increasing workloads in the coming years, used to tell him to bid sleep goodbye.</p><p>Onscreen, the couple have locked themselves somewhere. Jisung stretches out his foot and jabs the spacebar with his toe. It freezes on their bloodshot eyes. “Stay over tonight. Take my bed. You look like you’ll fall over any moment.”</p><p>Jeongin’s eyes widen, but he looks relieved for a second before his face creases in a mischievous smile, “but I’m not going to be falling for you,” he laughs.</p><p>Jisung throws sauce packets at his face. “Why do we even keep a brat like you around?”</p><p>“It’s because I’m cute and bring you endless joy,” Jeongin replies and Jisung can’t disagree with him.</p><p>Later, Jeongin comes out of the bathroom while Jisung is making a bed for himself on the sofa. Jisung fluffs his pillow. “I’ve put new sheets for you on the bed.”</p><p>Jeongin frowns at him. “Hyung, you know I can take the sofa, right?”</p><p>“Shut up, Innie.” Jisung flops on the sofa and deliberately pulls the blankets up to his chin. “My house, my rules.”</p><p>Jeongin rolls his eyes, but says, “thanks hyung,” in such a fond voice that Jisung’s heart melts.</p><p>“Yeah, no problem, Innie.”</p><p>───────</p><p><strong>Minho</strong>: Tomorrow 1 pm</p><p><strong>Minho</strong>: Don’t forget</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: i won’t ಥ_ಥ</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: it’s your birthday</p><p><strong>Minho</strong>: Good</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: what’re you even gonna do? isn’t that like early morning for you</p><p><strong>Minho</strong>: yes</p><p>───────</p><p>“Happy Birthday!!” Jisung yells the moment Minho picks up his phone.</p><p>“Why are you punctual?” Minho complains, puffy eyed and with a husky voice. “I just got up. Thanks though.” He rolls to his side, the camera still facing him. His eyes flutter. “Hmm, five more minutes.”</p><p>“Hyung!” It’s unfair that Minho looks this good with his cheeks smushed against his hand and with his phone at that angle. “You said you wanted to show me something.”</p><p>Minho sighs, nuzzles his face on the pillow.  “Yeah, yeah. It’s my birthday so instead of singing ‘happy birthday’, you should sing a lullaby to put me to sleep.”</p><p>“Um, you’ve been hyping this up for a week now, hyung,” Jisung says, “and I’m excited now. Wake up!”</p><p>Minho gives him a sleepy glare. “No! Sing. Hyung hasn’t heard you sing in a long time.” Minho’s voice is still sleep thick and soft and he’s pouting, but his eyes even if hazy, are mischievous.</p><p>Jisung digs his feet into his bed, tips of his ears flaming. He doesn’t even know why he’s embarrassed, but the thought of singing Minho to sleep is – “aish, hyung. Fine, I’ll sing in my best falsetto–”</p><p>“I’m getting up! Don’t you dare!” Minho’s camera shakes and then settles on a view of a gabled ceiling. “Some nerve you have, Han Jisung, threatening your hyung like that.”</p><p>“I sing perfectly well,” Jisung sniffs. “I could’ve been a singer, you know? Also, your ceiling is damn fancy.”</p><p>Minho leans over the camera, his head stuck in his sweater. He pulls it down with a vicious tug and then his face pops out, hair flopping everywhere. Fuck. <em>Cute</em>. “Damn, your ceiling is fancy,” Minho mocks, raising his eyebrows and widening his eyes.</p><p>Jisung scoffs, but relaxes his forehead though the sudden, terrifying blaze of attraction refuses to settle. He rubs his brows as he squirms. “What’re you going to show me?” he whines.</p><p>“You’ll see,” Minho says. He puts his ear pods in and then picks up the phone. The camera switches off. “I’ve got to go to the observation tower,” he says, “so I’ll just switch on the camera and audio when I reach there.”</p><p>Alright, Jisung has time to wrest back control. “Boring! You can’t abandon me after requesting my presence.”</p><p>“Trust me, it’s not easy to abandon you. You’re stuck to me like a limpet,” Minho scoffs. A door slams shut and the lock turns.</p><p>Jisung winces, stares at the bare ceiling of his bedroom. He knows that Minho doesn’t mean it that way, but he can’t help the stab in his sternum. Thin threads of anticipation and mortification creep to his throat. Minho switches off the audio, and Jisung is left in silence. To stop himself from thinking, he fluffs his pillow and pulls his blanket to his knees. This is a slow week for him – he hasn’t picked up any one-time projects and his regulars have been silent (Jisung squashes a plume of worry) – so he can afford an afternoon nap. Naps solve everything.</p><p>Minho switches on his camera. “It’s fucking cold! Fuck!” he’s backlit by pallid light and the wind whips his hair around his face. “Shit, the sun is already rising,” he says, with a rueful smile. “All I wanted to do was see a sunrise on my birthday and I played myself by being a lazy fuck.”</p><p>For all the warmth that the light there isn’t giving Minho, there’s enough within Jisung in his darkened room. “That’s alright.” He exhales, clears his throat so that his voice doesn’t crack, “we can catch the rest of it.”</p><p>Minho rubs the back of his neck. “Sorry, Sungie. This is a mess–”</p><p>Jisung huffs a laugh. “Hyung, it’s okay. Who doesn’t like sleeping in?”</p><p>“My cats,” Minho says promptly, “they’re demons who never let me sleep in.” He moves ahead. “Okay, here you go.”</p><p>The view that Minho shows him is breath-taking: all lush greenness and pretty browns and blues of nature stretching out for miles. The wind picks up just then and Minho is forced to switch off the audio. He has a steady hand, however, and Jisung watches the sun ascend to the sky with great reluctance, the grey clouds thwarting its light. In the fog that carpets the hills, sunlight is a gentle shimmer.</p><p>Jisung imagines the mellow warmth of the sun on his skin and he wonders what Minho looks like in a winter’s dawn. He bites his lips and tears his eyes away from the screen and opens his messaging app.</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: what is this heavenly Wi-Fi</p><p><strong>Minho</strong>: WI –  this hotel charges an arm and leg, but provides excellent services – FI</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: thanks hyung, you didn’t have to do this, i am the one who should be giving you a gift</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: but i’m glad that i could see at least half of this amazing sunrise</p><p><strong>Minho</strong>: You kept me company on my birthday, that’s enough ❤️</p><p><strong>Minho</strong>: So I should be thanking you. I felt a bit odd about going there on my own for some reason 🙈</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: this is your b i r t h d a y</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: so shut and accept my soul felt gratitude 🥺</p><p><strong>Minho</strong>: [image attached]</p><p>Jisung studies the picture of Minho with his reddened cheek, wind-swept hair and the hideous face he is pulling and affection tingles from his chest to his fingertips. He clicks his phone off and stares at his bare ceiling. “Fuck me,” he says with feeling.</p><p>───────</p><p>
  <strong> <em>Excerpt: Email to Minho</em> </strong>
</p><p><strong>Subject</strong>: Birthday gift??</p><p>Hey hyung,</p><p>So I didn’t get you anything (sorry), but! I found this a while ago while I was working on something else and I thought you might like it ᵔ.ᵔ</p><p>It’s a book of nursery rhymes and it’s really old and well old, but the pictures are hilarious and adorable!!! Hope you like it and I’m sorry once again for only sending you a pdf for your birthday haha.</p><p>Ps: I’m really sorry if you’re tired of the cat motifs but I really think you’ll like it.</p><p>Yours,</p><p>Jisung.</p><p>📎 kittensandcats.pdf</p><p>───────</p><p><strong>Minho</strong>: What’s with the three sorries??</p><p><strong>Minho</strong>: btw I want you to buy me dinner and also a gold plated, diamond encrusted watch as a gift</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: i think i’ll be able to buy these in about….</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: 600 years! \ ˚▽˚ /</p><p><strong>Minho</strong>: I’ll mark my calendar 😂</p><p><strong>Minho</strong>: But I really loved the book Sungie!!</p><p><strong>Minho</strong>: It was so adorable… my heart!</p><p><strong>Minho</strong>: the cat in from the north pole looks like you</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: you’re the cat in 'is my hat on straight'</p><p><strong>Minho</strong>: And who is my fourth kitten?</p><p>Minho: The poem says I have four but I only have three 🤔</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: i’m glad you liked the book!</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: i gotta go now haha</p><p>───────</p><p>
  <strong>section x: jisung unpacks</strong>
</p><p>
  <em>November, 20__</em>
</p><p>
  <strong>A Complex in a Complex</strong>
</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: hyungs!</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: do you guys want to come over for dinner</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: (if you want, but its good)</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: it’s</p><p><strong>Chan</strong>: Can’t do, Jisungie</p><p><strong>Chan</strong>: But ask Changbin he’s always free for free food</p><p><strong>Changbin</strong>: you know me so well hyung 🥺</p><p><strong>Changbin</strong>: I’ll be there</p><p>───────</p><p>“Fuck, this is disgusting,” Jisung grimaces and gags, “God!”</p><p>Changbin scrolls through the phone and then inspects the pot. Scrolls through the phone again. “I only added the things that are mentioned here!”</p><p>“It’s the spice,” Jisung waves both his hand in front of his face, eyes watering, “it’s definitely the spice.”</p><p>“Ah,” Changbin says, as Jisung opens his fridge to look for milk, “Oh, wow, I put in a whole lot of spice.”</p><p>Jisung whimpers. “Did you measure by fistfuls?” he demands and then snatches a glass off the counter. He drinks half a glass of milk. It doesn’t do much, but he feels psychologically better.</p><p>“I kinda eyeballed it,” Changbin confesses, earnestly stirring the pot as if it will make things better.</p><p>“You have the field vision of a hawk or what,” Jisung grumbles and then squats down to get the container of rice from the bottom shelf, “let’s cook rice in this and hope for the best. Can you pass me a bowl?”</p><p>Changbin hands over the bowl, and as Jisung measures rice into the bowl, he becomes aware of an expectant silence. He glances at Changbin, who is drumming his fingers on the counter with an abashed expression. “I try not to eat carbs at night,” he explains.</p><p>Jisung blinks. The air in the kitchen smells like burnt spices, and it tickles Jisung’s nose. “I don’t have any meat left; I haven’t gone shopping yet.”</p><p>Changbin perks up. “I’ll go get it! We also have tofu and stuff,” he snaps his fingers, “we can make this an everything stew!”</p><p>“Okay?” Jisung says, unsure, looking from the deep red liquid on the saucepan and its oily film to Changbin’s excited gleam. “Let’s see how it goes.”</p><p>It doesn’t go as expected. Yes, the dish does looks more like sludge with undercooked vegetables poking out and it is a bit too bland now, but cooking with Changbin is hilarious. He has grand ideas without any knowledge about how to execute it, and Jisung himself is a mediocre cook, so the entire process – one and a half hours because of the constant internet searches – is more like a mad experiment.</p><p>“It’s edible,” Changbin says, chewing carefully, “I think we could add a bit of chili sauce while eating it.”</p><p>“Right,” Jisung says, frowning when at the bitter after taste. “Why is it bitter though?” He goes through all the steps that he took, and he freezes. “I can’t remember if I peeled the carrots.” He refuses to look at the pile of vegetable peels.</p><p>Changbin’s mouth thins as he tries to suppress a smile. “Chili sauce or takeout?”</p><p>“Takeout. Please.”</p><p>───────</p><p><strong>Hyunjin</strong>: it looks…. radioactive</p><p><strong>Hyunjin</strong>: how did you manage…</p><p><strong>Hyunjin</strong>: to fuck up so terribly???</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: it wasn't me!</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: it was me <em>and</em> changbinnie hyung!</p><p><strong>Hyunjin</strong>: totally makes sense</p><p><strong>Hyunjin</strong>: waw</p><p>───────</p><p>
  <strong>A Complex in a Complex</strong>
</p><p><strong>Chan</strong>: You both are not supposed to be so proud you know</p><p><strong>Chan</strong>: I thought you had already cooked th food?</p><p><strong>Changbin</strong>: Appreciate our genius-ness and go home hyung!!</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: yeah!!!</p><p><strong>Changbin</strong>: !!!!</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: !!!!!</p><p><strong>Chan</strong>: Get out</p><p><strong>Changbin</strong>: Can’t,, I created the group lol</p><p>───────</p><p>The light flickers a couple of times and the fan slows down as Jisung is working. He barely has time to curse before the hum of electricity dies away, leaving him in lightless silence.</p><p>“Fuck my life,” he smacks his forehead, irritation pulsing at his temples. “Fucking assholes,” he snarls as he checks his laptop battery. It’s at 27%. After much wrangling he has managed to get two commissions and for once he’s in the mood to work. He glowers at the labyrinth of wires that snake between packing boxes and are connected to his laptop.</p><p>His motivation deflates in an instant. He smothers a yawn and blinks away the tears before picking up his coffee mug and going to the kitchen. Cold weather has gripped the city and the weather reports foretell snowfall in the evening. Jisung is stunned by how much time has passed; it seems like yesterday when he was throwing a bottle at his kitchen wall.</p><p>“Time and tide wait for no man,” he tells his fridge in his best announcer voice. He’s glad he has some coffee left and heats milk on the stove. As he waits for milk to boil, he is still untethered by how much has happened. He mentally lists out all the changes. Minho, Hyunjin, Felix, his flat, Changbin and Chan, and Jeongin and Seungmin. Not to mention, Jisung himself.</p><p>He switches off the stove and pours milk into his mug. He watches the curlicues of steam rise from the mug as he bites his lips, fingers tracing his phone. He snatches it off the counter and opens his contact list.</p><p>Minho picks up on the second ring. “’lo? Odd time for you to call, Sungie.”</p><p>“Yeah, am I disturbing you?” Jisung glances at the clock on top of his refrigerator, “you weren’t sleeping, were you?”</p><p>“Nah, I was watching the news.” The chattering in the background ceases and Jisung assumes that Minho has muted his T.V. “What’s up?”</p><p>Jisung grips the mug harder, the warmth soothing his cramping fingers. It also makes it difficult to press the nail of his thumb into his forefinger so he sips coffee to distract himself. “I was kind of overwhelmed and I –” <em>keep seeking you out and I can’t stop</em>, “and I wanted to talk to someone. Hope you don’t mind.”</p><p>Minho makes a tutting sound. “Shut up,” and his voice softens when he says, “tell me.”</p><p>Jisung wriggles his toes to make the tiny frogs on his socks dance. “It just hit me that things have changed a lot – a <em>lot</em>. And I wasn’t expecting it? I just feel blindsided.” He sighs, “I actually don’t know why I called you.”</p><p>“It’s because you have only one wise hyung,” Minho says over a rumbling noise from his side. “Don’t tell Chan hyung, though.”</p><p>“I will. I’ll tell him that Minho hyung called you unwise.”</p><p>“Don’t twist my words, brat!” Minho huffs. A rattle, a hissed curse. “One sec!”</p><p>Jisung watches the muzzy gray light of the morning spill into his kitchen and cast shadows on the tiles. The scent of frying fish drifts into the kitchen from one of the flats below, and he can see the silhouettes of people in the window opposite his. Dressed in his thick sweater and thicker socks, and with a cup of coffee in his hand, contentment seeps into his skin and ripples in the hollow of his bones. He’s still untethered, but he decides that it’s not the bad sort.</p><p>“Jisung-ah?” Minho’s voice sounds far away, “sorry I was looking for my night cream. Go ahead.”</p><p>“I was thinking the other day,” Jisung says slowly, “that I have changed a lot and now I realized that things have changed around me too. My… people have also changed.” He blows at the skin that’s forming on the top of his coffee. It breaks to pieces but somehow still clumps together. He makes a face at it. “And it just shocked me.”</p><p>“Is it a good change or a bad change?”</p><p>“I guess both – I mean I still don’t have answers of any sort and I’m still drifting, but the changes are nice too and I don’t know…” he winces and takes a sip. “I don’t know.”</p><p>Minho hums and then the silence trickles on, but Jisung doesn’t bother breaking it. He’s sleepy now – he always becomes pliant and yielding when he’s contented, like those insanely friendly cats on social media – and takes measured swigs his coffee, avoiding the clumps.</p><p>“Hmm, I think that’s what happens. Life goes on whether or not you have answers,” a short pause as if Minho is gesturing, “like time only moves forward right?”</p><p><em>Past intertwines with the present</em>, Jisung thinks and grimaces. “Or maybe it’s the questions, too.” He ponders over the lingering <em>something</em> in his interactions with Hyunjin; the unceasing drag of his job and the terrifyingly familiar path his thoughts are taking when it comes to Minho. “Maybe the questions show you a way too?”</p><p>Minho chuckles and the sound leads to uncomfortable swooping and fluttering. “Yeah, probably. There’s no one answer so maybe we just have to make up our own answers and hope that we’re right. Just like what we did in English class.”</p><p>“What’s true for me won’t necessarily be true for everyone else,” Jisung says, “um… you said that to me in class once.”</p><p>Minho seems surprised when he says, “you remember that?”</p><p><em>Of course</em>. “Yeah,” and now his voice is strangled and too revealing, so he clears his throat, “don’t you think it’s weird that our English class has so much influence on us even today?”</p><p>Silence.</p><p>Then a moment later, he says, “I think it’s us. It’s our influence on each other.” Minho’s tone is alight with nonchalance, so it makes the awkwardness he’s trying to hide all the more obvious.</p><p>Jisung’s heart swells and he can’t keep his fondness in check. “Yeah, it’s probably that.”</p><p>“Jisung? I know it’s not very helpful, but it’s possible to find happiness amidst all the chaos,” Minho says and really, his voice is so pretty, “and as you’re trying to find your answers, you’ll find happiness too.”</p><p>It sounds like a blessing and a fact and a promise and it knocks at Jisung’s heart, finds the door open. So it sneaks in and curls up there, throbs along with his heartbeat. “I know,” Jisung says. His wrists are aching and there’s a lump in his throat, “I – I know.”</p><p>“That’s great, Sungie.”</p><p>Jisung can hear Minho’s fondness and the poorly concealed yawn. “Hyung?”</p><p>“Yeah?”</p><p>Jisung hesitates, raises his hand to brush his hair back, but ceramic bumps against his brow bone. If it’s above a whisper then it’s true<em>.</em> “Sleep well,” he says, instead of the actual words at the tip of his tongue.</p><p>
  <em>Thank you for making me feel a little less lonely as always. </em>
</p><p>“Good night, Jisungie.”</p><p>(Jisung records and send Minho a minute-long video of the gentle snowfall that starts late in the afternoon. Minho’s reply is effusive and if Jisung smiles widely when he reads it and continues smiling as he makes his dinner, then no one needs to know.)</p><p>───────</p><p>“So, when did Seungmin join this club exactly?” Jisung checks the map and frowns when his phone buzzes, urging him to take a left. He’s sure that they’d been here five minutes before. “We need to walk this way,” he says to Hyunjin.</p><p>Hyunjin ambles beside Jisung, unbothered by the loop or maybe not noticing it. “Some time recently.” His mouth quirks in a smile, “they meet online and discuss music and stuff. It’s pretty niche, but he really likes it from what I can tell.”</p><p>“That’s great.” Sweat prickles at the back of Jisung’s neck and he bites his lip when the pointer on the map keeps wavering and then asks him to turn around. He glances at the road behind him and then at the map. “It sounds like something he’d like.”</p><p>“Are you sure this place is here?” Hyunjin cranes his neck from one side of the road to the other. It is a residential area and obviously expensive. The size of the buildings and the fancy gates give it away. “I don’t think…” Hyunjin adds, awed, when an expensive car hurtles down the road, “that your no name hole in the wall restaurant can afford this place.”</p><p>Jisung doesn’t think so either. The gates themselves must’ve cost millions, and he shudders when he thinks of how much the place beyond the gate must cost. “Let’s go.” He starts walking before Hyunjin can even move, embarrassed by how this night is turning out.</p><p>“Woah, hold up,” Hyunjin calls and in a moment or two he falls in step beside him. “Are you sure that...what’s her name? Lee?” he looks at Jisung.</p><p>Jisung grits his teeth and tries not to give into the sinking sensation in his stomach. “Yeah, Lee Hyein. I wrote the article for her and this is the address she gave me in her blueprint.”</p><p>“Maybe she’s trying to keep it to herself,” Hyunjin grabs Jisung’s hand when they reach the zebra crossing. “This place sounds mythical: amazing food at cheap prices? In this economy? <em>I </em>would keep it a secret.”</p><p>Jisung snorts, “these places hire Hyein to publicize them and once they get enough customers, they increase their prices. It’s marketing or something.”</p><p>“Amazing, there’s no hope left for our insatiable appetites and microscopic bank accounts,” Hyunjin says cheerily, “what a star-crossed affair!”</p><p>The street they enter is more commercial than the previous one, but definitely not one that they can afford. The sourness that tinges his mood compresses into a thick, heavy weight. The neon lights that surround him make his head pound in time with his footsteps. It’s cold now and it’s the harsh chill of a winter that’s firmly in place. After their last few outings which had been heavy and kind of stilted, he had wanted a quiet dinner at a warm, cozy place to chip away at the awkwardness lingering between them. Yet, here he is, repeating the mochi incident.</p><p>“I’m sorry for wasting your time,” he says brusquely, more embarrassed than angry. Against the backdrop of looming buildings and the groups of people welcoming the beginning of the weekend, his failed plans are especially humiliating. He wilts into his jacket, pulling it away from his body to hide inside it, to disappear. “I should’ve –” he exhales a bitter laugh, “I’m sorry for wasting your time.”</p><p>“That’s alright! What are you sorry for? Hyunjin is frowning, corners of his mouth turned down. A bus rattles past them and the smoke from its exhaust stings Jisung’s eyes, but he can’t be sure if that’s what it is. “We still have a lot of time. We can do what we want to. Maybe even,” Hyunjin gestures at the restaurants around them, “eat here,” he grimaces even as he says it.</p><p>“Yeah,” Jisung huffs, adjusting his face mask, “let’s eat in the most expensive area in the city.”</p><p>Hyunjin shrugs. “Go big or go home.”</p><p>“Home, please,” Jisung mutters, refusing to look at Hyunjin.</p><p>Hyunjin bends from his waist as he erupts into laughter. Jisung has always liked how Hyunjin laughs with his entire body as if every joke has to be enjoyed to the fullest. He has missed this. “I knew you would say that.”</p><p>Jisung smiles, lets his hands drop from his jacket. He drags the nail of his thumb over his forefinger, a hangnail protesting every swipe with a pinprick of pain and his fingers numb and painful. He has forgotten his gloves. “Maybe we should just do online meetings to avoid such failures,” he keeps his eyes fixed on his shoes, “Seungmin has the right idea.”</p><p>“He actually suggested it, you know,” Hyunjin hooks a hand around Jisung elbow, “he said falling out of touch is passé when we have all this tech.”</p><p>A woman drags her wailing son past Jisung. “That’s –” Jisung pauses, thinking then winces, “shit, I haven’t texted him since his birthday.”</p><p>“We can do it one day,” Hyunjin tells him, “like when we are all free, we can do a video call and talk and stuff.” He turns to Jisung and considers him as they wait at another pedestrian crossing. “Friends who truly care for you are rare,” he sounds far away, like he’s beyond the snow slick streets and burning headlights, “it’s so easy to be lonely.”</p><p>Jisung’s breath sticks to his throat. “Yeah, it is,” he agrees and it makes this failure that much worse.</p><p>───────</p><p>
  <strong>Dead – er – est – estest – Jeongin</strong>
</p><p><strong>Hyunjin</strong>: ello children remember our good ol’ group chat?</p><p><strong>Seungmin</strong>: Do you mean, the spam group</p><p><strong>Felix</strong>: what do you mean spam?</p><p><strong>Felix</strong>: it was quality content</p><p><strong>Seungmin</strong>: You once sent 12 messages about botany noona</p><p><strong>Felix</strong>: why are you like that </p><p><strong>Felix</strong>: just when you all had forgotten botany noona</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: damnnn botany noona!</p><p><strong>Jeongin</strong>: i am surprised she didn’t knee him in the balls</p><p><strong>Jeongin</strong>: especially after the shroom incident</p><p><strong>Jeongin</strong>: (missed this group tho)</p><p><strong>Hyunjin</strong>: i go away for five seconds and you all are already fighting smh</p><p>───────</p><p>Lock inspects every inch and corner of the apartment as if she hasn’t been here before. She makes the same disgruntled face as before, yawns and curls up right beside the door.</p><p>“It’s probably because your apartment doesn’t smell like you yet,” Felix says.</p><p>Jisung surveys the unopened boxes cluttering his living room, the sparse furniture and the bare windows. “It doesn’t even <em>look</em> like my apartment,” he says and flops on his beanbag with a forlorn sigh. “I’ve been procrastinating.”</p><p>“Don’t say that!” Jeongin gasps in mock outrage. “You’ve worked so hard. It’s only stacks of boxes now instead of towers of boxes,” he grins.</p><p>Jisung flips him off without even looking. “Look at all this stuff! Why am I so materialistic?” he complains as he waves a hand at the boxes.</p><p>“A terrible affliction,” Felix drawls, already flipping through his textbook. “At least your carbon footprint is bigger than your shoe size,” he darts a sly smile at Jeongin before turning back to his book.</p><p>Jisung throws a USB cable at him while Jeongin laughs. “I hate both of you! I don’t understand why I spend time with you guys.”</p><p>Jeongin sits with his back against the armrest of the sofa, and switches on his laptop. “The question is, if you hate us so much then why do you keep inviting us?” He drops his voice to a whisper, “is it because you love us?”</p><p>Felix starts cackling and Jisung doesn’t bother with a response.</p><p>───────</p><p><strong>Hyunjin</strong>: can’t make it this week</p><p><strong>Hyunjin</strong>: sorry</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: cool</p><p><strong>Hyunjin</strong>: you’re not mad</p><p><strong>Hyunjin</strong>: right??</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: no, i am not</p><p><strong>Hyunjin</strong>: ok</p><p>───────</p><p><strong>Minho</strong>: Things are afoot</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: please explain</p><p><strong>Minho</strong>: It means things are happening</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: …</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: you know that’s not what i meant</p><p><strong>Minho</strong>: Yes</p><p>───────</p><p>“– how much more space you’ll have if you cleared everything out,” Mom pushes her glasses to the top of her head, “it’s been weeks, Jisung.”</p><p>Jisung groans and makes a face. “I know! I’m busy, okay? I’ll unpack soon.”</p><p>“Are you so busy that you will continue living in a pig-sty?” Mom asks, derisively, “and what did I tell you about getting a nightstand?”</p><p>“Night stands are a luxury, mom, I don’t even need it,” Jisung places the phone beside him. It doesn’t matter anyway because all he can see is his mother’s forehead. “And stop calling it a pig-sty, it’s just a bit messy.”</p><p>His mother harrumphs.  “Just open the boxes and put your stuff away, Jisung, it won’t take much time.”</p><p>“Mom!” he whines, “can we please talk about something else?” He tucks his hand under his sweater and presses it against the skin of his belly for warmth. It’s really cold today and his fingers always turn into icicles in such weather.</p><p>“Have you met your neighbours? Made new friends in this area?” his mom asks, changing tracks to something worse, “someone other than those two hyungs from college.”</p><p>Jisung glowers at the bare ceiling, regretting his decision to call his mother. “I talk to Hyunchul who is the landlady’s grandson.”</p><p>Unimpressed silence radiates from his phone. Jisung extends a hand outwards and plucks his phone. His mom’s imposing frown fills the screen. “Oh my god, mom! No one is friends with their neighbours anymore.”</p><p>“If something happens to you then they’re the ones who are nearest to you! And what’s wrong in being a good neighbour? You kids have no sense of community. And I’ll never understand why you’re so hesitant to meet new people. Is it so bad to have more than one circle of friends? I’m still friends with people from our old building and we’re going to meet for lunch–”</p><p>Jisung drops his phone. “I just wanted to check up on you and you’ve already decided that I’m the worst.”</p><p>“When did – no one’s saying that you’re the worst… Jisung, show me your face,” she demands and Jisung grudgingly picks up the phone again and sticks out his bottom lip. His mother sighs, “I’m just worried about you. This is why I didn’t want you to do freelancing work because… you’ve always been a homebody, always content with your own company.”</p><p>“I have friends,” he tries to keep irritation out of his voice, “and I’m fine, so stop worrying.”</p><p>Mom adjust the phone and now he can see her worried eyes and her philtrum. He hates seeing her look worried and hates the cloying shame of being the reason for it. Especially when the reason has to do with his personality. “You never mentioned any friends when you were here,” she says in that strident ‘we’ll fix this tone’, “and you seemed so lonely, Ji. That’s why I think that you should make more friends.”</p><p>Even though he realises that his parents are growing old, his parents still consider him a child. Jisung presses the thumb and forefinger of the hand on his stomach together. “I meet my friends almost every week now – I’m making an effort and I’m <em>twenty-four… </em>you can’t point at a random kid and ask me to make friends with them.”</p><p>“I still think you should try.” Insistence reverberates in her voice and he knows that she’s not going to let this go. “It’s okay to make more friends, you know.”</p><p>Jisung snickers, “yeah mom, they taught us that in pre-school.” He studies a crack on the ceiling, and kneads his stomach. “I’ll… see what I can do.”</p><p>“You’ll do well. Now about our Christmas plans…”</p><p>───────</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: do you think its sad that i have the circle of friends since time immemorial</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: it’s* (definitely sad), same circle* (i need to meet new people)</p><p><strong>Minho</strong>: It depends?</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: yeah i’m just being weird cause i’m all alone today</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: and i can’t stop thinking</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: :((</p><p>───────</p><p>Jisung gawks at Minho.</p><p>Minho purses his lips. “Saturdays are for skincare,” he says, eyes crinkling. He’s using a giraffe headband to keep his hair off his face.</p><p>“Why are you so sparkly?” Jisung places his bowl of food and his laptop to the side and places his pillows on top of each other. “Wait a minute, I’m adjusting stuff.” Once the laptop is perched on the plinth of pillows, he fiddles with the screen until the camera captures his from a flattering angle.</p><p>“I’m wearing diamonds on my skin,” Minho deadpans. He reaches a hand out to something out of the frame then shows a sleek looking tub to Jisung, “I’ve got my ‘galaxy face on’ as per this product.” He sounds like he’s reading a phonebook.</p><p>Jisung finds himself smiling. ‘What’s up hyung,” he asks, burrowing his toes into the mattress, a little overwhelmed by the simple delight of having Minho’s company. “Not that I don’t want to talk to you or anything, but why this unexpected call?”</p><p>“You were yearning for company. So, I thought I might as well call you.”</p><p>Jisung reddens at the pleasure that swoops through his stomach. This is…dangerous. “I was just complaining,” he mumbles, eyes fixed on the pieces of scrambled eggs in his fried rice.</p><p>Minho is silent for a moment. Jisung looks at the screen again, ignoring his face in the smaller frame at the bottom of the frame. “I know,” Minho says with an earnest galaxy face, the drying face pack highlighting every wrinkle and crease. “I wanted to keep you company,” he shrugs and his gaze has drifted somewhere past Jisung. “And I need company too,” Minho admits, voice softening.</p><p>Jisung has just shoveled an entire heaping of rice into his mouth when Minho says this, so he covers his mouth with one hand and gives Minho a thumbs-up with another.</p><p>Minho’s face pack creases in laughter, and Jisung has to look away before he sprays food on his laptop with the force of his own laughter. It is fascinating how mobile Minho’s face is. “Hyung!” he says when he gulps down the morsel of food. “Please take off your mask, you’re making me laugh!”</p><p>Minho’s smile broadens. “No,” he leans forward and towards the camera, and his shirt, which is already large on his frame, slips over a shoulder, his collarbone flashing. “I really do look funny,” Minho laughs.</p><p>Jisung is frozen with his spoon halfway to his mouth. He doesn’t remember being so thirsty back in second year. “You do,” Jisung says faintly, unable to decide between screaming and suffocating himself. He takes a bite of fried rice instead.</p><p>Minho is still giggling. “I’m sorry,” he gasps and throws his head back, body quivering. “Oh god, my stomach!”</p><p>Jisung tilts his head and squints at Minho. “Are you okay?”</p><p>Minho nods, his giggles tapering off. He wipes at the corners of his eyes and then makes a face at his fingers. “Shit. Give me a second, I’ll go wash my face.”</p><p>Jisung watches his retreating figure, mystified by the sudden giggling fit though he’s not complaining. It is now that he realizes that Minho doesn’t laugh as much – he does laugh along with Jisung while they’re talking, but the intensity is lesser. It saddens Jisung, but before he can fall into a brown study, Minho comes back, a fluffy blue towel hanging around his neck.</p><p>“I can’t believe I laughed so hard at my own face,” he comments as he settles back on his bed, “Ah – sorry, it’s just that I’m so tired that my mind’s all loopy and stuff. You know how it is right?”</p><p>Jisung bites his lips because now Minho is barefaced and sweet. <em>I’m made for endless suffering</em>, he thinks miserably. He glowers at his bowl. “Why are you apologizing, hyung? It was cute.”</p><p>Minho pushes his hair back with an obnoxious smirk. “Whatever I do is cute.” The moment he says it, he yawns and Jisung can see that there’s still glitter on his chin.</p><p>Jisung rolls his eyes. “I don’t think that people who have an endless void on their faces are considered to be cute.” He giggles when Minho gives him a stern look. “It’s true!”</p><p>“Changbin was right. You’ve become an unmanageable brat now,” Minho shakes his head, “look at you, teasing a sleep deprived, exhausted man.”</p><p>What Jisung wants to say is, ‘<em>you talk about me with Changbin hyung?’</em> but he is afraid that it will mirror the butterflies in his stomach and will come out all <em>coquettish</em> and shy. “You hyungs only call me a brat when you don’t have a comeback,” he scrapes the last few grains of rice and pouts, “otherwise you’re all ready to argue with me.”</p><p>Minho chuckles. The camera jerks and shudders as he picks it up and carries it somewhere. “We can’t always keep up with our brilliant Jisung-ah.”</p><p>“Yeah, right,” Jisung says, thinking of all the times his friends tease him with a smile, “but, hyung, is your sleeping situation really bad?”</p><p>Minho finally puts down his phone. The camera shows a window and delicate looking knick-knacks on a wall shelf. Jisung’s eye catches a huge ornamental swan peering down at him from behind the glass. Minho pops into the frame, “My sleep cycle is fucked, but I did go to a doctor to get meds, but it’s frustrating and being sleep deprived just makes me weirdly sad.” He sits on the sofa and pulls his legs up.</p><p>Jisung pouts and makes a sympathetic noise. It’s one thing to be like him and have shitty sleep hygiene, and it’s another thing entirely to not be able to sleep. “Because of the constant travelling?”</p><p>“Yeah, and you know, this project has hit all the targets and it’s successful and it’s,” he sighs – “well it’s nearing the end, but I just … you know how we talked about how change is scary but being stagnant is too? I’m facing that and yeah.”</p><p>Jisung hates that he never knows what to say. He’s forever groping in the dark, unsure and timid as he offers words that sound wooden. Even when someone says ‘thanks for listening,’ he always wonders if he really helped at all. “Yeah, I do. And that’s – it’s rough. Things are changing suddenly.”</p><p>“I’ve seen it coming for some time though,” Minho’s brows furrow, “it was always going to happen.”</p><p>“That’s worse. Knowing that things are going to end as still going through it with your eyes open,” Jisung’s thinking of an entry in his journal, the one on nostalgia. It’s been so long since he has opened it. “An inevitable goodbye.”</p><p>Minho pulls his knees to his chest, rests his chin in the cradle they form. Jisung hopes that his sweatpants don’t get stained with the glitter. Minho looks small like this, bundled in cloth and tucked against himself, a little lost, a little sad. “I don’t want to think of what will happen next.”</p><p><em>Life will keep happening</em>, Minho’s voice says in his head, but it doesn’t fit the situation. I will be there for you sounds trite and it’s not like Jisung is of much help. “Whatever happens, you…” then he falters. “You’ll find your answer and if not, then maybe the questions will help you move forward,” he says, much too quiet because he wants to be heard, but not heard at the same time.</p><p><em>Silence suffuses the story</em>, he thinks. Minho is gazing somewhere beyond the camera, still as a stone. Jisung wonders what he sees. His phone chimes with a message, he ignores it.</p><p>“What do you think of an inevitable hello?” Minho asks, rousing himself from his stupor. His eyes are gleaming.</p><p>“I think that sounds nice?” Jisung rubs his chin, “it sounds soft and stuff.”</p><p>“And stuff,” Minho mocks in a high-pitched voice.</p><p>“Romantic,” Jisung shrugs, “I don’t know… it just sounds nice. Kind of like, you had me at hello, but you know it’s going to happen. So different energy.”</p><p>“I see,” Minho murmurs and there’s something so tender to his voice that Jisung’s heart clenches. “You had me at hello, huh?”</p><p>Jisung shrugs again, squirming at the way Minho’s looking at him. “You know,” he mumbles, “love or interest at first sight or sights? I don’t know.”</p><p>“Oh, I know,” Minho says and it feels like he’s telling a secret.</p><p>───────</p><p><strong>Hyunjin</strong>: not up for a meeting</p><p><strong>Hyunjin</strong>: ??</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: yeah kinda have work</p><p><strong>Hyunjin</strong>: ok cool</p><p><strong>Hyunjin</strong>: hey everything is fine right</p><p><strong>Hyunjin</strong>: between us?</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: no no everything’s fine</p><p>───────</p><p><strong>Minho</strong>: Have you figured out how you want to meet new people?</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: ahhhhhh</p><p><strong>Minho</strong>: No then?</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: hyung i’m talk about the issue and then forget about it types</p><p><strong>Minho</strong>: 🙄🙄</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: 🙈</p><p><strong>Minho</strong>: You’ve never forgotten one issue in your life</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: …</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: true</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: I’ll figure it out soon! (tho pls suggest ideas)</p><p><strong>Minho</strong>: Book clubs? They’re pretty great, I used to be a part of a club that read mystery novels only and it was really fun</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: done!</p><p><strong>Minho</strong>: …</p><p><strong>Minho</strong>: I should’ve suggested a marathon club smh</p><p>───────</p><p>Jisung fights off sleep as he scrolls through a freelance work website. The words fly into his eyes like spears, the same phrases buzzing pages after pages, <em>copywriting, SEO, experience, prices negotiable</em>. On autopilot, his mind sorts them into categories like:</p><p>a) fuck no</p><p>b) I know you’re a bastard from the way you write</p><p>c) shitty but I can put up with it</p><p>d) maybe</p><p>e) ooh nice, this means I won’t get it</p><p>The other part of his brain is churning away, roiling and spitting with a restlessness that settles in his bones like murky sediment. In spite of his epiphanies and philosophizing, he’s still here, feeling like this – so young and isn’t it strange that he has never felt so <em>small </em>when he was a child?</p><p>This is life happening, he thinks. When he realized that he hated his job, he continued working because he has bills to pay. When Hyunjin had left, Jisung still went on, foraging for something to keep him rooted. Even after the disastrous networking meet and fight with Felix that had made him flee in search for comfort in the familiar (only to find the familiar rendered unfamiliar), he had still worked, talked, lived.</p><p>In his new, unfamiliar house with its weathered walls, Jisung feels bland and out of place with the worn rut of his thoughts, with the shallow indent of his life, with living with himself. Just as the apartment is old but new to him, he must seem old to his friends, but he is so new to himself. But is he really? Is he all that changed?</p><p> Being busy is a blindfold, and he yearns for it now. For the comforting darkness.</p><p>His eyes sting and he closes them, feels the burn crest and recede. He’s been staring at the screen for too long. He closes his laptop and goes in search for his eye drops. Winter has overtaken the city completely, bringing with it a hush as life falls, folds and withdraws. An insistent honk of a car breaches his room from the window.</p><p>A listless weight presses on his head. He can’t work like this, so he might as well unpack<em>. </em>He squeezes the bottle of eye drops, wipes away the excess drops that roll down when he closes his eyes. Or maybe he can find the journal, see if old Jisung knew more than he did.</p><p>The boxes are dusty and he grimaces as he wipes his hands on his pants. He really should unpack in earnest, but the number of boxes is daunting. He drags the neck of his sweatshirt so that it covers his nose and cuts the tape off a box. He doesn’t find the journal in this box that’s labelled ‘books and stuff’. What he does find is a smaller box with a collection of used SD cards, an OTG cable, the gems from broken earrings and pendrives. One of them is named, ‘college stuff - all’. He stares at it, weighing procrastination against being responsible.</p><p>The answer is obvious, he scrambles to fetch his laptop and inserts the pendrive.</p><p>When he had received his result that declared that yes, Jisung will in fact get a Bachelor’s degree, he had spent a few hours painstakingly downloading everything from the university provided cloud storage, email, and from the learning management system. He had spent the rest of the day arranging them in folders. Unnecessary, but one of Jisung’s talents is the ability to find the most time-consuming things to waste time on. He scrolls through the folder, memories bursting at the surface of his mind with every title he reads.</p><p>
  <em>English First Year.</em>
</p><p>He clicks on that folder because it was the beginning of everything that happened and is still happening. Then he finds a document titled, ‘An Introduction to Lee Minho’ and he opens it, an odd excitement bubbling in him and he forces himself to go slow, to savour the words.</p><p>───────</p><p>
  <strong> <em>Excerpt: An Introduction to Lee Minho</em> </strong>
</p><p>Lee Minho is a resident of ___. He has lived here all his life and he wants to settle here, but only after travelling a lot. He is pursuing a Bachelor’s in Psychology and is minoring in Dance and English. He is most passionate about Psychology and Dance, and considers English as tool for when he joins his family business.</p><p>Currently, most of his time is occupied by his dance troupe. He also spends time with his friends, reading and playing games. When asked about the games he plays, he said, “I play games of all sorts. I just like spending time with my friends.” He also likes mystery novels. He finds college engaging and stimulating.</p><p>“I want to do something that will empower people and help them help themselves,” he said, when questioned about his dreams and ambitions, “I think it is important to give back to society.”</p><p>One fun fact about him is that he has three cats. Another one is that he’s had two wisdom teeth removed, and can sing in falsetto. An achievement that he is really proud of is that he once won the biggest plushie at a fair. He gave it to his young cousin. She uses it to practice wrestling and other martial arts. He says that is when he knew he had a nurturing streak.</p><p>He is an only child, but claims that he doesn’t have the only child syndrome. According to him, “I try to be a generous and kind person in all spheres of my life.” This author cannot vouch for his claim.</p><p>───────</p><p>He’s grinning and his cheeks are hurting, and he likes Minho so much. He bites his lips as he tries to quell the waves of fondness that threaten to drown him. It’s silly, it’s the barebones of facts from years ago, but he knows Minho and the juxtaposition of the old with the new and Jisung having some context for both, it’s just –</p><p>It is vast and his stomach swoops like it does at the highest point of rollercoasters, like it does when he peeks past the parapet of a balcony. It jolts the blues, drives them away and so, that’s what he does for the rest of the day: he examines the past, melds himself with the version of him and his friends that existed once. Jisung familiarises himself with them and wonders what they must seem like now from the vantage point of the present.</p><p>───────</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: i looked through my old assignments and stuff</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: and i’m… shocked? by the sheer number of moments when we were happy</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: and stressed but it’s so weird</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: it kinda made me feel better and gave me hope. is that dumb</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: actually no it isn’t it gave me comfort didn’t it</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: sorry hyung no need to reply, check your mail tho!</p><p>───────</p><p>
  <strong>Excerpt: Jisung’s email</strong>
</p><p><strong>To</strong>: Minho</p><p><strong>Subject</strong>: Excavation findings</p><p>Kindly find attached some of our assignments from the English class. I still can’t believe that you wrote a poem on potatoes. I also can’t believe some of the shit I’ve written.</p><p>Ps: I 100% vouch for the last claim</p><p>Yours,</p><p>Jisung.</p><p>📎 ten attachments</p><p>───────</p><p><strong>To</strong>: Felix, Hyunjin, Seungmin</p><p><strong>Sub</strong>: Our marketing assignment</p><p>Look what I found!!!</p><p>📎 sixteen attachements</p><p>───────</p><p> </p><p><strong>To</strong>: Do, M</p><p><strong>Sub</strong>: Invoice – Reminder</p><p>Hello,</p><p>Gentle reminder that I have sent you an invoice. Kindly do the needful.</p><p>Thanks and regard,</p><p>Han Jisung</p><p>
  <strong>Excerpt: Jisung’s search results</strong>
</p><p>Book clubs near me</p><p>Things to do near me</p><p>Pork cutlet simple recipe</p><p>Library near me</p><p>What happens in book clubs</p><p>───────</p><p>
  <strong>Dead – er – est – estest – Jeongin</strong>
</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: book clubs are scary and my nerves are withering away</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: what if i say dumb stuff and everyone laughs at me like my classmates did back in tenth grade</p><p><strong>Seungmin</strong>: If you embarrass yourself then you don’t have to go back there</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: what if i open a book and i get a paper cut and i screech and they all look at me and throw me out because i scream too loud</p><p><strong>Felix</strong>: now i don’t know what you’re nervous about</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: i was thinking of the paper cut thing so that i stop thinking about sounding dumb</p><p><strong>Felix</strong>: your coping mechanisms are next level insane :)</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: thank</p><p><strong>Seungmin</strong>: Just go and see what it’s like, it’s all under your control</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: ok 😭😭</p><p>───────</p><p>“And then this girl just rattled off,” Jisung spreads his arms, “a list longer than this. Every time she gave an opinion, she referenced at least five books.”</p><p>“What did you do?” Changbin asks, idly flipping through the book Jisung has given him.</p><p>“I said some bullshit,” he thinks back to the book club and cringes, “the silence that followed my blathering was painful. Everyone just sat like this,” he makes his expression blank except for a little furrow between his brows, “then the leader said, ‘thanks for the input?’ and then immediately, ‘moving on!’”</p><p>Chan laughs then sips his coffee and leans back on the pink wing chair. “It couldn’t have been that bad.”</p><p>“T’was,” Jisung grumbles as Changbin passes the book to Chan. “The million-books girl just refused to look at me after that.”</p><p>“Maybe she finds you cute,” Changbin suggests, then grins, “maybe her type is spectacularly dumb.”</p><p>“Hey! <em>Your</em> type is spectacularly dumb,” Jisung says and his mouth drops open when Changbin’s eyes cut to Chan very deliberately.</p><p>“Maybe,” he says, rolling his eyes when Chan continues inspecting the book without looking up. “Anyway, so how’s it going with Minho hyung?”</p><p>Jisung blows on his coffee to stop himself from smiling like a fool, but his lips quiver and give him away. He takes a sip of coffee and avoids Changbin’s knowing gaze. “It’s good. I – I missed him and it’s nice to talk to him again.”</p><p>“I see,” Changbin throws his leg on Jisung’s lap and digs his heels into Jisung’s thighs when he pretends that Changbin’s feet stink, “it’s nice that the ‘thing’ has faded to the background. It was kinda awkward at first.”</p><p>Chan bobs his head as he tries to tuck a throw blanket around his legs. Jisung leans forward to  help him and grins when he gets a head pat for his effort. “Thanks, Sungie. But I’m really glad that you’ve both worked things out.”</p><p>Jisung fiddles with his empty mug, cheeks heating. <em>The ‘thing’ has not faded to the background, Binnie hyung.</em> “Yeah – um, I’m glad too,” he mumbles, mentally searching for another topic. “Oh! Hyunjin and Seungmin are planning a video call meeting or something, so you guys should join us as well.”</p><p>“When is it?” Chan asks.</p><p>Jisung frowns, “I don’t know,” he confesses, “I’ll let you know?”</p><p>Changbin stretches his hands above his head, “yeah, it’s been a long time since we all got together. Can you please press my feet?”</p><p>“Why don’t you ask Chan hyung,” Jisung teases and yelps when Changbin rears forward to tickle him.</p><p>───────</p><p>“Are you mad at me?” Hyunjin demands the moment he steps into the house.</p><p>“What no!” Jisung says, blinking when Hyunjin unknots his scarf forcefully.</p><p>Hyunjin steps closer and waves the scarf at Jisung. “You’ve been weird since the time we couldn’t find the restaurant.”</p><p>Jisung narrows his eyes though the tops of his ears burn. “Oh that… it was nothing.”</p><p>Hyunjin stops unbuttoning his coat. “Are you telling me that you looking like a kicked puppy the entire time and then texting me weirdly after that is… nothing.”</p><p>Jisung studies Hyunjin, who impatiently brushes away the snow that’s melting on his hair with one hand, his other hand still frozen near his coat button. Jisung shifts from foot to foot, weighing his options. “I just thought you were mad –” he winces, embarrassed by how weak it sounds, “and I thought I’ll give you time to cool down? I don’t know!”</p><p>“Are you for real? You still think I am mad at you?” His eyes are wide and incredulous, and he’s reddening with anger.</p><p>Jisung ruffles his hair with both his hands. “I don’t know!” He tilts his head back. “Like, I thought you would think of it as the new version of the mochi debacle because I wasted your time again.”</p><p>“Oh my god,” Hyunjin groans. “Wait,” he says and bends down to unlace his boots. Jisung drops his head and watches with apprehension as Hyunjin makes quick work of his laces. Hyunjin kicks off his boots and flies towards Jisung, his black coat flapping.</p><p>“Jisung,” Hyunjin says, gripping his shoulders, “I am not mad at you,” he tightens his grip when Jisung tries to squirm away, “I thought you were mad at me!”</p><p>Jisung clutches Hyunjin’s wrist and pushes him away and steps away from him. He drops his hands to his side, digging his thumb into his index finger so hard that it burns. “But – you specifically mentioned it! And like I didn’t… I just want to – I don’t want to accidentally make you feel terrible now,” he speaks to a lock of Hyunjin’s hair, “I don’t what I’m saying.”</p><p>Hyunjin rubs his forehead and Jisung notices that there are wet patches on his shoulders. Even though Jisung’s windows are still bare, he hasn’t noticed that it’s snowing. “I wasn’t mad at you, but I understand what you’re saying,” he sighs. His fingers are red.</p><p>“Yeah well,” Jisung inspects his feet. They’re feet like and turned towards each other like they always do. He never understood why books and movies always describe feet as a sign of vulnerability. Even when bare, his feet look like they’ve been through a war. “I don’t want to do what I did before,” he tells his feet.</p><p>“Jisung, I really love you,” Hyunjin says. He looks awkward, standing in the middle of the room in his socks and big coat. Jisung gestures towards the sofa and the beanbags, but Hyunjin shakes his head. “But sometimes you’re really fucking dumb. A certified dumbass.”</p><p>Jisung looks at him. “Hey!”</p><p>Hyunjin’s eyes are serious but they glisten just a little. There’s a smile tugging at the corner of his lips, however, Jisung’s eyes sting in relief. “If I really felt that you were making me feel terrible or if I didn’t like something then would tell you,” his smile widens, “it’s a two-way street and I’m learning to be assertive, okay? I’ll tell you.”</p><p>Jisung moves to the sofa because if he stays in this spot then his dumb tear glands will take it as permission to go on overdrive. He sits on the green beanbag, and waves a hand at the grey one. Hyunjin sits on the grey beanbag, his coat pooling around his feet like shadows.</p><p>“I’m sorry for assuming –” he murmurs, words sticking somewhere, dissolving into ether. “It’s difficult to like, know that I kinda made things worse.” He thinks of the long, desolate summer. “It just seemed like you would get mad.”</p><p>“That’s why we need to communicate,” Hyunjin says.</p><p>Seized by a sudden impulse, Jisung reaches out to grab Hyunjin’s hand. “You’re one of my best friends, Hyunjin-ah and I didn’t want to fight again.”</p><p>“You’re my best friend too Jisung, but we – I…” he makes an impatient noise, shaking his head, “what I’m trying to say is… like, we fought because we never talked about what was happening and it’s foolish to fall into the same trap again.”</p><p>Jisung let’s go of Hyunjin’s hand and rubs his palms on the knees of his pants. They’re fuzzy because the fabric has coiled into itself. “We should,” he sounds a bit hollow and he’s wrung out, “we both need to talk properly.”</p><p>“We do, yes.” Hyunjin folds the fabric at the end of his coat.</p><p>A watchful silence unfolds. Jisung doesn’t know what to say. Hyunjin seems to be facing the same dilemma for he’s sweaty and fidgety. “Do you want to get food now?” Jisung asks to break the silence, “and watch a movie?”</p><p>“Yes!”</p><p>Jisung gets up to get his phone, but Hyunjin grabs the end of his sweater. “Hey, we’ll figure things out, okay?” he says, his face serious and with determination burning in his eyes.</p><p>Jisung’s heart swells and the sudden rush of affection makes his head feel light. <em>It’s the moments like this</em>, he thinks, <em>of love and friendship that fills my life with colour</em>. <em>And that’s an answer</em>. “Yeah. We will.”</p><p>───────</p><p>“What’s up, hyung?” Jisung says when he answers Minho’s call. He grimaces when Minho breathes into the phone, static crackling loudly in his ears. “Hyung, stop!”</p><p>“Sorry,” Minho whispers then giggles, “I’m a bit drunk. A bit,” he sings.</p><p>Jisung’s mouth twitches as he puts his laptop to the side.  “How much is a bit?”</p><p>“I danced it away! Who are you calling a drunk!” Minho voice is loud and his voice cracks at the end. He bursts out laughing. “I missed that.”</p><p>“You missed your voice cracking when you speak?” Jisung’s beaming like an idiot and it is obvious in his voice, but he doesn’t care. Minho is adorable. How is he supposed to keep a straight face?</p><p>“Yeah! It was so funny,” Minho says, “my mom would be like, Minho, you like drawing and stuff, so why don’t you explore art? Do you want to join an art class and I would say, it’s a phase, mo-<em>om</em>,” he tries to make his voice crack at the last syllable, but he ends up sounding nasally. “We would just start laughing.”</p><p>“Hyung, you’re so cute.” He covers his mouth in surprise. He hadn’t meant to say it, but as Minho gloats, he decides that it is the truth, one that will be true for everyone if they heard Minho at this moment.</p><p>Minho gasps. “Wait! I want to see your face!”</p><p>His laptop falls asleep and Jisung bites his lips when he catches his adoring reflection. “Do you want me to video call you?”</p><p>“Yes! Yes! Immediately,” Minho says and the line goes dead.</p><p><em>I’m so fucked</em>, is all that runs in his head as he obediently video calls Minho. In the few moments of silence before Minho answers, Jisung drowns in a sea of mingled fear and elation. <em>Too familiar, but too different. </em>Then Minho’s face fills the screen and he’s on sturdy ground again.</p><p>Minho leans really close to the camera and Jisung can see the curl of his lashes. “Ah, just as I thought,” Minho declares, “as always, you’re cute as fuck.”</p><p>Jisung’s heart and stomach lurch to a stop and his quick inhalation leaves him breathless, as if all the oxygen in the air has been displaced. “Thanks?” he croaks and his cheeks are so hot that he can feel heat radiating off them.</p><p>“I thought you were cute as fuck even,” he raises a hand and waves it behind him before letting it flop down, “on the first day… do you remember? You were going to cry, I know it.”</p><p>Oh, English class. “I guess I was overwhelmed,” Jisung says, sinking into his pillow, and pulling the front of his t-shirt to cover his nose. “Why are you embarrassing me!”</p><p>Even on video call, Jisung can see that Minho’s eyes are bright though it’s probably because of the overhead lights. The harsh light of the room he’s in highlight the severe lines of his face. He’s gorgeous like this: in his silky dress shirt, jewellery and makeup. Jisung swallows, overwhelmed and self-conscious.</p><p>“’m not,” Minho is swaying from side to side as he speaks, “I’m telling you the truth.” His eyelids are drooping. “You’re really cute. Your frowny brows are cuter though. You look like one of those squirrels that peek their little heads above the window ledge.”</p><p>Oh lord. Jisung tugs his t-shirt below his chin. “Hyung, did you drink water? Also don’t forget to take off your lenses.”</p><p>Minho drops to his side and tucks his knees to his chest. “I did, I still need to take off the lenses, though.” He juts out his lower lip. “Sungie, I’m sad.”</p><p>Jisung is glad for the change in topic, but he wishes it wasn’t this thing that’s making Minho look so crushed and hurt. “What happened? Is everything alright?” He leans forward, arranges his pillows with one hand and then shuffles upwards so that his lower back is against the pillows and his upper back is leaning against the headboard. “Are you okay?”</p><p>Minho heaves a long sigh. “I’m a bit too drunk to be sad right now, but I will be sad tomorrow.” A beat, “the project ended.” Before Jisung can say anything, he continues, “it was successful and my parents are really proud and I’ve been promised a bigger project… a transfer… but these people – this entire experience is just gone.”</p><p>“Oh, hyung,” Jisung whispers, “that’s so–”</p><p>“And we don’t have much in common except for this project, so when we’re all transferred, that’s it.” Minho looks at the camera and Jisung’s heart aches at how shuttered his face has become. “It’s…” he chuckles, “it’s so stupid, but I’ll miss all this.”</p><p>Jisung stays silent, waiting to see if Minho has more to say. But Minho continues to stare with glassy eyes and a downturned mouth, face open and vulnerable. Jisung shifts as he thinks of what to say. “I understand,” he says and the expression that flickers across Minho’s face is too quick for him to read. “But, hyung, you created something beautiful together – it’s not <em>just</em> a project and all those memories… you’ll have that in common forever.”</p><p>“I’ll still be sad,” Minho says and his voice wobbles. “The time between something ending and something starting… or restarting, that’s the worst.”</p><p>“I know.” Jisung fiddles with the edge of his blanket. His fan makes a creaking noise and then resumes its slow, rustling spin. Jisung keeps it on for ambient noise but it’s grating in this weighted silence. “There’s nothing wrong in being sad, hyung.”</p><p>Minho grimaces. “Yeah. Life sucks, suck it up, right? He shudders and drops his forehead so that they rest on his knees and wraps his hands around them.</p><p>Jisung clenches the fabric between his hand. “Would it make you feel better if I said that you’ll find them again? If things work out like that?”</p><p>Minho looks up and there’s a smile somewhere in the grim line of his mouth. “Not really, but it’s a nice thought.” He sighs again. “It’s nice to think like that even if it might not happen at all.”</p><p>“Yeah,” Jisung agrees and he knows that it is true. There are so many things that influence how the past intertwines with the present. “Only time will tell,” he adds without thinking.</p><p>“Only time will tell,” Minho repeats as he uncurls his limbs and massages his right elbow, “My transfer – uh… I don’t know. I’m too sleepy.”</p><p>“Go to sleep, hyung,” Jisung says, wanting to reach out and touch. He tightens his grip on the blanket. “And don’t forget about your contact lenses.”</p><p>“I won’t,” Minho replies, “good night, Sungie.”</p><p>Jisung watches his phone darken and then lock itself after the call ends. <em>I am so screwed</em>; he thinks and that’s perhaps the truest statement of them all.</p><p>───────</p><p>
  <em>December, 20__</em>
</p><p>Lock spins round and round when Jisung enters Felix’s flat. When Hyunjin enters behind him, she goes berserk, first showering Jisung with affection and then bounding to Hyunjin, then back to Jisung again.</p><p>“She’s really excited by the unexpected number of pets,” Felix tells him, a beer in hand, “she couldn’t believe that there are so many people here all at once.”</p><p>Chan and Changbin are talking to Jeongin, and Changbin looks starstruck as Chan gestures while he speaks. Jisung smothers a snort and pets Lock’s flanks when she pushes her way into the circle of his arms.</p><p>“You’re having the time of your life, aren’t you, Lock?” Hyunjin laughs when she smacks him with her tail. Hearing his voice, Lock turns to him and licks his face.</p><p>Jisung takes of his shoes and coat and goes to the kitchen to get a beer, leaving Hyunjin to fend Lock’s vociferous affection on his own. It’s a frighteningly cold evening and containers of takeout food are lined up on the counter. They’re warm to touch. Jisung can hear Jeongin complaining about Hyunjin and Changbin talking in a cutesy voice. <em>There’s always a place for us</em>, Jisung thinks and carries bottle of soju along with him to the living room.</p><p>Hyunjin and Jeongin are wrestling on the sofa while Changbin cheers them on. Lock, a connoisseur of general mayhem, but much too polite to join in, studies them with her ear cocked and tail swinging so hard that her butt wiggles. “Who wants shots?” Jisung asks, waving the bottles.</p><p>Changbin kicks his ankle and is unmoved by Jisung’s hurt whining. “At least wait till Seungmin and Minho hyung come online.” He tries to grab the bottle of soju from Jisung, but he rears back him and flees away from him.</p><p>“No! Do you know how long it has been since I drank?” Jisung says, clutching the bottle to his chest. He shrieks when Changbin digs his fingers to the side of his ribs. “No! I’ll–” he howls, curling into himself to escape Changbin’s vicious pokes, “I’ll drop them on your feet!”</p><p>The tickling stops and Jisung sees that Chan is dragging Changbin away. “Stop fighting, both of you,” he laughs when Jisung darts forward and aim a kick at Changbin’s ankle. “We can have a drink or two before the call starts.”</p><p>Jisung sticks his tongue out at Changbin who flips him off. By the time they video call starts, Jisung is already buzzed and so excited that he is bouncing in place. Then Seungmin and Minho are on screen and Jisung’s smile splits his face as his heartstrings knot and unravel and pulsate all at the same time. <em>We’ve found our place</em>, he thinks, <em>and it was always there</em>.</p><p>“I can tell that Jisung is already drunk,” Seungmin says and his hair is messy and his glasses are different. His shoulders are broader and his face has lost a lot of the puppy-like softness they used to tease him about. “Did you leave some for the others, Jisung?” he teases and the timbre of his voice is the same and so is the spark of mischief.</p><p>Jisung raises his glass and drains it. “I don’t think they can keep up with me. They’re…” he leans forward and whispers conspiratorially, “<em>boring</em>.”</p><p>Jisung doesn’t even mind all the cushions and popcorn that rains on him for that comment because Minho’s smile is broad and his eyes are crescents. He looks happy and there’s no trace of the smallness from the other week. As Hyunjin and Jeongin gang up to tease Seungmin, he fishes out his phone and texts Minho.</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: even if we don’t find a lot of people again isn’t it good that we found some people again????</p><p>His phone screen crowds his vision in the too-bright, too-near way things do when he’s wearing contact lens and is drunk. He looks up at Felix’s laptop immediately and catches Minho’s eyes dart to the side.</p><p>“Are you honestly texting while we’re all here and you know, having a get together?” Hyunjin whispers with a poke to his side. They’re all pressed together so that Felix’s camera can see all of them with its plastic eye.</p><p>Jisung squeaks and clutches the spot Hyunjin poked. “I needed to tell Minho hyung something,” he says, placing his phone near his thigh so that he can notice its vibration. “It was important.”</p><p>The rest of them burst into loud cackles and Hyunjin gives him an unreadable look which softens as the moment stretches. “He’s right here,” he gestures at the video call where Seungmin’s roasting someone, the way his expression has turned demonic.</p><p>Felix leans down and thrusts his face right in between Hyunjin and Jisung’s heads. He’s sitting on the sofa while Jisung’s on the floor so he vaguely worries for Felix’s neck. “Refill?” he asks and his breath smells like alcohol.</p><p>“Yes, thanks, Lix,” Hyunjin turns and raises his glass. He pauses when Jisung’s phone vibrates and lifts a brow. “Mixer?”</p><p>Jisung nods and let’s Felix pour rum into his glass. Hyunjin crawls forward to get a soft drink that they’re using as a mixer and Jisung props a leg up, and rests his elbow on his knee to shield his phone, embarrassed without quite knowing why.</p><p><strong>Minho</strong>: Yeah Sungie also please look at the camera I miss your face</p><p><em>It’s the rum</em>, Jisung tells himself firmly as he raises his head and flushes when he sees Minho’s lips curl up at the corners. Hyunjin pours the soft drink into his cup and as always, he pours more than Jisung likes. He frowns, “if I want a soft drink then I would’ve taken that.”</p><p>“You’re already an emotional mess,” Hyunjin replies, unfazed.</p><p>“I’m not,” Jisung snipes back, but it’s true, he does feel like he’s going to burst out of his skin. His phone buzzes again and Jisung quickly looks at the camera again. He knows that it’s a text from Minho because he has set a specific vibration tone for him.</p><p>The general chit-chat quickly devolves into a drinking game though it’s not quite afternoon where Seungmin and Minho are right now. Jisung doesn’t quite understand the rules of the game because they keep changing the more they drink, so he keeps drinking though Hyunjin does try to keep an eye on him. Hyunjin himself is bleary eyed and flushed, so his monitoring really depends on when he remembers to do so.</p><p>“I remember that time we went on a trek and Jisungie was so exhausted by the end of it that he fell asleep on my shoulder during the ride home,” Minho says and Jisung turns his head from his food and tries to focus on him, “I think it’s after that time that he actually started talking to me a lot more freely.”</p><p>Jisung doesn’t remember the trek all that much because he hates walking and mosquitoes had bitten him through the fabric of his sweatpants so most of the walk had been spent in smacking mosquitoes away and scratching his skin. “You have comfortable shoulders,” Jisung mumbles.</p><p>“I’m glad that my comfortable shoulders helped us become closer, then!” Minho’s glass hides his mouth and his eyes are steady. He’s tucked against Seungmin’s side and he’s so relaxed that it looks like he’ll melt into a puddle.</p><p>“It’s not that–” Jisung insists though a braincell roars at him that Minho is joking. “I’ve always feel safe with you.”</p><p> He knows that there’s a gossamer like intimacy woven in the way he speaks to Minho sometimes; in the things he speaks about. There’s always an undercurrent of deep understanding that he has found with Minho and he’s always thankful and fond. The issue is, Jisung can hear all this and more in his voice.</p><p><em>And it’s all laid bare</em>, he thinks as everyone falls silent, except for Lock who is drinking water with mighty splashes. His heart rattles against his ribs.</p><p>“Drunk Jisung is the sweetest Jisung!” Felix crows then, breaking the silence before it can turn to understanding.</p><p>“Felix is the sweetest Felix at all times,” Changbin adds and the topic changes once again.</p><p>But Jisung is frozen because his voice echoes in his head until the words stop making sense and only the gilded frame of it shines through the drunken fog in his brain. <em>I like Minho hyung</em> and <em>it has happened again</em>. Then a softer murmur from the past, <em>if it’s above a whisper then it’s true</em>.</p><p>Jisung gropes for the bottle of rum and fills his cup to the brim with shaking hands.</p><p>───────</p><p>“Minho is single now,” Felix says as he hands Jisung his plate. “So…”</p><p>Jisung splits the omurice in half and pours ketchup on both the halves so that it pools at the centre. “No.” He stuff a bite into his mouth and shakes his head for emphasis, the left side of his head throbbing with the movement.</p><p>“Well,” Hyunjin drawls as he scrolls through his phone, “Seungminnie says that Minho hyung didn’t notice or mention anything out of the ordinary.”</p><p>Relief flutters somewhere deep inside. “Good. I’m a fool,” he whines as he pushes an even bigger bite into his mouth. After that…  moment, he had drunk so much that after the video call ended, there had been a full-fledged dissection of matters of his heart with Jisung wailing at the top of his voice.</p><p>“It was really sweet,” Felix smiles at him as he pours kibble into Lock’s bowl, the sound tinkling in the kitchen and piercing Jisung’s head, “you never told us that so much happened between the both of you.”</p><p>Hyunjin throws his head back and laughs, “yeah! Sharing nature videos with each other? Talking about the meaning of life? Comforting each other? <em>Da-am</em>. That’s so <em>romantic</em>.”</p><p>Jeongin makes an annoyed noise from the sofa. “You all are so noisy,” he grumbles as he sits up, blanket covering his head.</p><p>Hyunjin places his coffee mug on the table and rushes to the sofa. “You’re awake! How’s your head, Innie?” he coos, coiling his body around Jeongin’s. Jeongin looks increasingly alarmed and he starts trashing. Jisung’s phone vibrates then. Minho is texting him.</p><p>Jisung snatches a glass of water and drinks it so fast that his throat aches a little. He has no mental capacity to behave like a normal human being.</p><p>“Minho hyung?” Felix asks, sitting beside him. He looks amused as he slices his omurice.</p><p>Jisung nods and he squashes a few grains of rice with his spoon. “This is dumb. I’m <em>dumb</em> – I don’t know why I’m doing this again.”</p><p>Felix hums as he chews. “I would agree with you,” he says after he has swallowed the morsel. He is pale and he has dark circles under his eyes, but he still woke up early to cook for them. Jisung makes a note to wash the dishes.  “But things are different,” Felix continues, “and I really think you should go for it.”</p><p>Things are different, that’s true, but Jisung doesn’t know if it’s true for Minho, too. The past might intertwine with the present, but he’s only one half of the past. It’s a shared past, after all. “I don’t know,” Jisung says, sulking a little. He eats the last bite. “This omurice was amazing.”</p><p>Felix understands. “Did you notice something between Chan hyung and Binnie hyung?” is all he says.</p><p>───────</p><p><strong>Minho</strong>: Things are getting closer</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: so is human extinction (ɔ◔‿◔)ɔ</p><p><strong>Minho</strong>: How dare you snatch away my chance to be mysterious and annoying??</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: thank you, i just decided to take a chance</p><p><strong>Minho</strong>: You’ll regret this!</p><p>───────</p><p>“Hyunjin, I will die,” he croaks into the phone and then whines. “I have a cold!” He swigs half a mouthful of cough syrup and sighs when soothes his throat as he swallows. He places it on the kitchen counter, goes to the living room and collapses on the sofa.</p><p>Hyunjin snorts, “yeah, I can tell. Do you have meds at home? Do you want me to get you something?”</p><p>“I want a better immune system,” Jisung throws a hand over his eyes and licks the corner of his lips. “It’s because of that dumb, embarrassing book club party,” he grumbles, “I suffer through half an hour of awkwardness and get a cold. There’s no fairness in the world!”</p><p>“Fuck them for making you feel awkward,” Hyunjin says, “and fuck them for passing a cold onto you.”</p><p>Jisung snuggles under the blanket that he has been dragging along with him since the past two days. It’s one of his older ones, the purple one with stars on it and he pokes one of them as he thinks of the vacant ceiling of his bedroom. “Why do I always have to get a cold?”</p><p>“Everyone gets a cold, Jisung,” Hyunjin sounds like he’s laughing. “Just tell your clients that you won’t be available for two days and get some rest.”</p><p>Jisung coughs deep from his chest. “Ouch,” he rasps, “what if my lungs fall out? How will I sigh multiple times a day? How will I scream at the unfairness of my existence?”</p><p>“Yes, sighing is what you have to worry about,” Jisung can <em>hear</em> him roll his eyes, “just take some meds and go to sleep, Jisung. I’ll check up on you later.”</p><p>“Okay,” Jisung says and then swings his legs to the floor before standing up. His body takes a moment to adjust to the sudden weight in his head. At least he can binge watch without guilt about the lack of commissions since he’s ill, but there’s a hot frisson of worry all the same. He decides to send out a few feelers to his regular clients before he switches to watching shows.</p><p>───────</p><p>Light from the laptop screen sends sharp, shooting pains over his forehead and the cough syrup plus medicated lozenges hit him just then, so he’s coasting along the line between exhausted euphoria and drop-dead exhaustion.</p><p>He sorts his books into stacks, gets distracted by his favourite ones and re-reads pages that he has marked with dogears. Memories skim along the surface of his consciousness as he takes in what he had found interesting in the past. He has work to do though, so he makes a separate pile of books he wants to read and gets back to work.</p><p>“Why do I have eight tubes of chapstick?” he asks the box that’s open in front of him. The box gives him a blank look. “This is expired,” he sighs, uncapping a tube and finding it full.</p><p>Outside it is sleeting and the flurry of snow and rain blur all visible light. Jisung, bundled in a sweater and his blanket, peers blearily into the gaping maw of the box. The abyss doesn’t stare back at him because it is full of stuff. “Ugh!” He flops onto his back, but sits up when the motion irritates his throat.</p><p>The coughing fit takes a while to subside. He drapes himself over the box and whines, regretting the decision to unpack his stuff while battling a raging cold. <em>Cough syrup’s gone to your head</em>, his cough syrup addled brain informs him. Maybe he really should use the measuring cup. </p><p>Jisung gropes for his phone. He doesn’t have any messages from his friends. There are a couple of messages on the book club group chat which he doesn’t open. These people terrify him with their seemingly unending knowledge about literature and inside jokes, but he’s too embarrassed to turn tail and run at this point.</p><p>With nothing to do, Jisung takes a look at his apartment. Even though he hasn’t unpacked completely, his house looks lived in. But, it’s just a material reflection of him: hoodies hanging on the back of his sofa, his sneakers piled up next to the door, wires creeping from every plug point.</p><p><em>I was somewhat here</em>, <em>Jisungie style</em>, he thinks, the weight of all the unopened boxes pressing on him like a wall. His eyes drift to the windows and the blurred light. He stares and he stares till the wall and the sky outside fuse, become one, become whole. He slips into a dreamy haze before he realises that he’s falling asleep. His curls up on the floor as his thoughts unspool and the filaments of it creep towards incoherency.</p><p>Then he jolts awake when his phone rings. “Ow,” he grumbles when his phone insists on warbling. He sits up with his head pounding in protest and checks his phone. Minho’s video calling him.</p><p>“You look like shit,” Minho says the moment the call connects.</p><p>“Thanks,” Jisung grimaces at the wet roughness of his voice. He clears his throat, “It’s the look of the season.” He pauses, “<em>cold</em> season.”</p><p>Minho blinks then his lips thin. “Don’t put sense of humour in your CV,” he says with a droll smile.</p><p>“I don’t even claim to be a person in my CV,” Jisung jokes, sniffling. He sniffles again. This time he reaches for his handkerchief and mutes the audio as he trumpets like an elephant.</p><p>“You could’ve switched off the video too,” Minho comments, “that was like watching a particularly difficult exorcism.”</p><p>“Ha ha.” Jisung rolls his eyes. His back aches and there’s a crick in his neck. Maybe sleeping on the floor is not a good idea anymore.  “We’re old men, hyung. All these new pains and aches,” he shakes his head.</p><p>“I have an old pain,” Minho says, suddenly serious, “It is difficult to hide it all the time.”</p><p>“What? Really?” Jisung can’t tell if he’s joking or not, but he suspects –</p><p>Minho laughs, “yeah, the doctor called it Han Jisung syndrome.”</p><p>“Oh, shut up!” Jisung grumbles, but it gets muffled by another coughing fit. “I was unpacking before you disturbed me,” he says, switching on the back camera to show him the one open box.</p><p>“I thought you were napping?” Minho says. He has set the phone on what looks like a kitchen counter, judging by the fridge that is in direct view. “Why are you unpacking when you have a cold?”</p><p>Jisung ignores the first question. “I don’t know,” he studies the boxes, “maybe because I won’t feel guilty about not working on my projects.” <em>It’s winter and I don’t have a home, yet. I haven’t given it any meaning, yet. </em>“Plus working while high on cough syrup is something else,” he says over the sound of running water.</p><p>Minho appears with a towel in his hand. “Don’t tell me you still guzzle cough syrup right out of the bottle.” His towel is one of those scary, pristine white ones, the sort that Jisung never uses because he somehow stains them within a day.</p><p>He puffs out his chest. “I do!”</p><p>Minho gives him a flat look. Then he turns around and opens the fridge, bending a little to check the contents. Jisung’s eyes take in the new breadth of his shoulders, the flex of muscles under tank-top and the swell of his ass. <em>Jisung, stop it right now!</em></p><p>“Nice ass,” he singsongs, just to quell the heat in his ears. There’s an abrupt burst of panic in his stomach and he tries to douse it with reason. Minho is attractive, anyone can see that. <em>You notice it a bit too much, dude</em>, an inner, judgmental voice tells him. He coughs into his handkerchief.</p><p>Minho looks surprised when he turns. He grins, face lighting up. “Yeah? Thank you. Squats are my only friends,” he says, making a weird sign with his fingers. “Thanks for noticing, Jisungie. You didn’t have to,” he squeezes his eyes shut.</p><p>Jisung forces out a fake coughing fit to hide the heat that’s spreading to his neck. “Your wink is terrible,” he says weakly, ignoring the way Minho is still grinning.</p><p>“But my ass isn’t,” Minho sings, opening the jar he’s holding.</p><p><em>Can’t argue with that. </em>Jisung musters the last grains of his dignity. “I am going to unpack now.”</p><p>“And I am going to cook,” Minho says, “so we can continue the call until we’re both done with our work.” He shakes the jar he’s holding, “I need to make pasta and I hate waiting for it to cook. Cheap ramen has the perfect boiling time.”</p><p>Jisung breath catches, delighted even after months that Minho wants to keep talking. He nods, not trusting himself to speak. This feels strangely intimate, going about their chores together like this. Jisung turns to his box. This one is labelled ‘drawers’, but from what Jisung can tell he had ended up using it for miscellaneous stuff. So, he finds his makeup (bought on sale and never used), his rarely used perfumes and lotions, the watch his mom gifted him, potpourri bags, and his journal.</p><p>He picks it up, runs a hand along the ink stained cover and brushes dust off its edges. He pulls the rubber thread off the edge of the journal. It falls open and a couple of dried flower petals fall out. “Do you ever think about your past self?”</p><p>“Hmm,” Minho says, appearing on the screen again, “I guess I do, though it’s mostly my memories rather than my old self, you know. Why?”</p><p>“I do sometimes. Like, I think about the actions I took at a point in time,” Jisung picks up the flowers gently, “and think about how things would be now if I had chosen a different course of action.” He holds his handkerchief to his nose to wipe away the mucus.</p><p>Minho disappears again. There’s a sizzling noise. “I get what you mean,” he says when he returns, “it’s… things and events can repeat themselves, right? So, thinking of alternative choices does help.”</p><p>Jisung flips through the pages, eyes flitting over his bad attempts at poetry, quotes and lists. He freezes when he comes across a page where he’s stuck a star sticker. He traces a hand over its edges. “Yeah,” he swallows, throat aching, “but sometimes it doesn’t help.”</p><p>“There’s no one answer,” Minho says, appearing with a pepper mill this time. “We are all doing what we think is right for us and hoping for the best, remember?”</p><p>“Of course,” Jisung laughs, feeling foolish. He clears his throat. “Anyway, so I was just thinking of how things just kinda get pushed to the bottom but they don’t cease to exist and then one day you drag it to the forefront,” he breathes, trying to suppress the tickle of a sneeze. “and then, it’s the same, but it is different in some ways too.” He has no idea what he’s on about. He hopes Minho does.</p><p>Minho’s holding a wooden spoon now. He rolls it between his palms. “Because things aren’t quite the same when you bring it back to the forefront,” Minho observes. “Things keep changing, don’t they? Relationships, too.”</p><p>“Yeah, like we have to change the context,” Jisung turns the page as he bites his lip, unable to understand what he is doing. His head is too heavy. <em>To be cherished and to be remembered</em>, that’s the aim, he’s written. Jisung thinks, <em>remembered as what? Cherished as what? </em>“Everything changes,” he says. “I have changed, too, you know,” he says, staring right at Minho’s fridge.</p><p>Minho’s wearing heat resistant gloves. “I know,” he agrees easily. “I can tell.”</p><p>Jisung flips to another entry, the one about stars not giving a damn. How strange that he has stuck a star in the same journal where he has reviled it. Things change. Things change constantly and some things don’t.</p><p>“I am going to dye my hair,” he announces.</p><p>───────</p><p>“Eat your soup, dumbass,” Changbin says, shoving a bowl into Jisung’s hands. He turns and sits on the sofa. “Kids these days don’t know how to take care of themselves.”</p><p>Jisung glares at him with watery eyes, but does not expend energy thinking of something snarky to say. He’s using every joule of energy his body has just to stay upright. “Thanks,” he says and sniffs obnoxiously because he’s not going down without a fight.</p><p>Changbin rolls his eyes. Chan enters the living room with two plates of food. “Really though,” he says, handing Changbin a plate and then petting his cheek and tugging at his earlobe, “unpacking when you’re sick was a dumb move.”</p><p>Jisung narrows his eyes to see what Changbin’s reaction to all this affection is, but the light is too dim and his position on the beanbag is not conducive for subtle spying. He stirs his soup, “I know, but I really wanted to get done with it.”</p><p>“Get some curtains first,” Changbin says but his voice is weak, “and do not use these boxes as makeshift shelves like a lazy fuck, okay?”</p><p>Jisung whines and sniffles. Chan and Changbin ignore him. “I’m going to get black out curtains,” he says, wondering how he has never noticed how affectionate both of them are with each other.  Their shoulders are brushing and so are their knees. Changbin’s little finger is creeping towards Chan’s knee.</p><p>“I have them back at my home,” Chan takes a bite of food, “I always end up sleeping too much because they block out the light so well.”</p><p>“You need it,” Changbin interjects with a smile, “sleep, I mean. Not sure about Jisungie though.”</p><p>Jisung flips him off, returning Changbin’s grin. There’s an ease to way he communicates with them now, a smooth slip, a gentle glide into familiarity. Propinquity is one hell of a thing. He laughs and then coughs when Chan smacks Changbin’s thigh, saying, “Stop bullying someone who is sick, Binnie!”</p><p>“Everyone is against me,” Changbin complains, and in the next breath he says, “just eat your fucking soup.”</p><p>Jisung takes a sip. It is warm and comforting, and he can tell it’s homemade. His eyes sting only because the soup is on the spicier side. That’s all. “Thanks,” he croaks. The crack in his voice is because of the cold. Obviously.</p><p>───────</p><p>“Damn. <em>Wow</em>,” Hyunjin says.</p><p>Jisung ducks his face into his scarf. He’s wearing a mask, but it doesn’t do much to hide him from Hyunjin’s wolfish smile. “It was nothing.” He clears his throat. His cold is better today, but his throat is still sore.</p><p>“Every year you become more and more brazen,” Hyunjin’s smile widens when Jisung squirms, “first that thing in the elevator with Daniel –”</p><p>Jisung screeches and whacks him with a roll of towels. “No, I have just scrubbed that memory, please don’t bring it up!” He turns away and coughs into his sleeve.</p><p>“Cough syrup and alcohol always turn you into a mess,” Hyunjin laughs, “you just prowl sometimes, no?”</p><p>Jisung ignores him. He inspects the towels and puts them back when he sees the price tag. It’s just a piece of cloth! “Let’s just go to the rugs and carpet section before I start crying about my piddling bank balance,” he says.</p><p>“If you didn’t spend all your money on chocolates and boots then it won’t be piddling, you know,” Hyunjin bumps his shoulder against Jisung’s, “what do you even need that many shoes for?”</p><p>Jisung rolls his eyes, “I need it to impress people. If I can’t intellectually dominate them then I’ll dominate them with my sheer physical presence.” He flexes his biceps and arranges his face in a fierce look. The next moment he is scrabbling for his kerchief to wipe his nose.</p><p>Hyunjin gives him a long look. “I am not even going to comment. The rugs are over there,” he points behind Jisung and sweeps past him.</p><p>“Hey! Say I am intimidating,” Jisung chases after him, “say I am!”</p><p>The winter sales have begun in full force, but Jisung is now an expert at figuring out the times when crowds are less. The rug and carpet section is desolate except for Hyunjin who is studying a huge, woolen rug.</p><p>“My five-minute internet search tells me that woolen rugs are the most expensive,” Jisung says, “I am going to get the tiny nylon ones.”</p><p>“So pretty,” Hyunjin sighs, but dutifully follows Jisung.</p><p>Jisung already knows what he wants, so it doesn’t take him long to pick it out. What takes time is the ensuing argument with Hyunjin. “This buttercup yellow will go with the seal grey and seaweed green beanbags!”</p><p>“Ew,” Hyunjin makes a face, “only nerds use terms like that. Nerd.”</p><p>Jisung sticks his tongue out at him, “I spent thirty minutes figuring out the colour scheme and I am getting this buttercup yellow rug.”</p><p>“It’ll look terrible,” Hyunjin insists, reaching out a hand, “it won’t go with your seals and seaweeds.”</p><p>“Your face doesn’t go with my rug,” Jisung side steps Hyunjin’s grasping hands, “but so I say anything? You’re still invited to my flat, aren’t you?”</p><p>“What?” Hyunjin’s squints in confusion then pinches his nose as he sighs, “Okay, fine, but I’m just saying that it’ll look better in your bedroom. Why the sudden interest in interior decoration though?”</p><p>Jisung whack him with the rug. “I am making my space my own,” he says. “Next, curtains.”</p><p>───────</p><p><strong>Minho:</strong> So I know where I’m going to get transferred</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: ooh where is it?!?!</p><p><strong>Minho</strong>: I am coming back</p><p><strong>Minho</strong>: 20<sup>th</sup> night</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: holy shit!</p><p><strong>Jisung</strong>: we can meet again!!!!</p><p>───────</p><p>
  <strong>To be continued</strong>
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  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Should’ve named this chapter friendship core or apartment core lol</p><p>
  <b>|<a href="https://twitter.com/liquorish_roots">twitter</a>|</b>
  <br/>
  <b>|<a href="https://curiouscat.me/trip_the_zipp">curious cat</a>|</b>
</p><p>Hope you like it so far &lt;3 I would love to hear your thoughts and comments about how this fic is progressing! You can also talk to me on twitter if you like! </p><p><b>References</b><br/>Summer night… whispering to each other – Kobayashi Issa<br/>Silence suffuses the story – Life Poem 5, Emily Dickinson</p><p>
  <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/files/61852/61852-h/61852-h.htm">kittensandcats</a>
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  <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/files/61852/61852-h/61852-h.htm#FROM_THE_NORTH_POLE"> north pole cat</a>
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  <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/files/61852/61852-h/61852-h.htm#IS_MY_HAT_ON_STRAIGHT"> cat in a hat</a>
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<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Part IV</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Did I spend two days of break trying to edit the final chapter at breakneck speed? Yes, I did. I edited it myself, however, so please forgive any mistakes that you see.</p>
<p>And I can’t believe that we’ve come to the final part. I hope you enjoy this chapter!!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Part IV</strong>
</p>
<p><strong>section xi: a year in review/ a year in preview</strong> </p>
<p>Jisung continues unpacking even as he battles his cold. Time dissolves in the haze of exhaustion and the numbness of cough syrup, medicated lozenges and painkillers. The amount of stuff he has is interminable, and half the days pass in figuring out where to keep them. He sleeps like the dead and dreams of sorting clothes. It also leaves him with no energy to analyze the jackrabbit leap of his heart and sundry flutters and stutters when he thinks of Minho.</p>
<p>Having no energy doesn’t mean that there are no daydreams and whimsy, however. With his hands occupied as he folds horribly wrinkled plaid shirts, he becomes enmeshed in a merry-go-round of possibilities and sappiness. Minho’s return is a shift in the way things have been moving and even if Jisung doesn’t plan on doing anything, being in the same city – sharing the same space – it’s exciting.</p>
<p>And there’s the anticipation, thin but insidious like the fog they show in movies. It’s always there and he tells himself that he’s imagining it when he hears it in Minho’s voice sometimes but it doesn’t cause any frisson to subside. So yeah, he’s fucked.</p>
<p>Once the cold subsides to a pinprick irritation in his throat, he puts up curtains – cloth ones; turns out, blackout curtains are beyond his means – launders his clothes and vacuums. He saves a few boxes, gets rid of the rest. He vacuums, dusts every shelf and trinket, mops the floors, wipes the windows and mirrors. He makes a list of home décor items that he can afford and picks out the photos he wants to put up on his walls.</p>
<p>His flat looks bigger without all the boxes and Jisung stands in the middle of his living room, arms akimbo as he surveys the fruits of his labour. The cream walls and twin rays of sunlight, along with the ring of sofas and beanbags around his new rug are comforting and they’re <em>his</em>. There’s more to be done, but he has time to do it.</p>
<p><strong>Jisung</strong>: [image attached]</p>
<p><strong>Jisung</strong>: voila. home sweet home</p>
<p><strong>Jisung</strong>: (i kind of miss the warehouse aesthetics tho)</p>
<p><strong>Minho</strong>: I still can’t understand why you did so much work while battling a cold</p>
<p><strong>Jisung</strong>: welcome to the ‘can’t understand jisung’ club 😂 hi,  i’m jisung the president</p>
<p><strong>Minho</strong>: The cold really has affected your sense of humour</p>
<p><strong>Minho</strong>: It really looks neat and pretty, Sungie and cosy</p>
<p><strong>Minho</strong>: My apartment will be like a mausoleum</p>
<p><strong>Jisung</strong>: you can come over anytime hyung!</p>
<p><strong>Minho</strong>: Let’s see</p>
<p>───────</p>
<p>He packs food and takes it to Felix’s flat and the moment he sets it down, both Felix and Jeongin pounce on it. “Thanks,” Felix mumbles, mouth already full of food. “You’re getting better at making things other than breakfast foods.”</p>
<p>Jisung puffs out his chest, “I was always meant for greatness.” He pinches Jeongin’s thigh when he sees him roll his eyes. “Don’t annoy the person feeding you.”</p>
<p>Jeongin clutches his plate closer to his chest. “You’re the best hyung in the whole world, hyung.”</p>
<p>“Good,” Jisung says and whacks Hyunjin who mutters ‘tyrant’ under his breath. He pulls up the cuffs of the new sweater he found at the bottom of one of the boxes before picking up his plate again. The fabric is a bit itchy and it makes the hair on his forearms stand up, but it is very warm and it’s an unusually cold day today. Jisung’s breath had trailed like the smoke from a steam engine as he had made his way here. He presses closer to Felix’s side for extra warmth. Lock stirs in her bed, kicking her leg out.</p>
<p>Jeongin and Felix have their exams and photocopies of notes and books are strewn around them. The frantic, overzealous energy that had been sparking from their skin when Jisung had entered the flat reduces the more they eat. They’re like those kittens who keep screaming for food and then fall asleep once fed, Jisung muses, watching them in amusement. Or, maybe he just watches too many cat videos.</p>
<p>“So,” Jeongin places his plate down on the floor with a clatter, “what have you decided to do about Minho hyung, hyung?”</p>
<p>Jisung worries his bottom lip, then licks sauce off the corners of his mouth. “Nothing? I don’t think I can do anything, I’m spiritually too small to deal with this.” He’s not going to tell them about the list of places that he has created to visit with Minho.</p>
<p>“’Small, but with big feelings’ is our Jisungie in a nutshell,” Hyunjin laughs and shrinks away when Jisung puts his plate down again and pretends to stab him with his chopsticks. “It’s true! You’re…what’s that things he kept mentioning sometime back, Lix? You’re always full of it.”</p>
<p>“Myopic angst.” Felix shrieks when Jisung tickles him, “why are you so violent today! Go back to rolling your eyes and whining.”</p>
<p>“He’s shy,” Jeongin sings and Jisung kicks him.</p>
<p>Jisung grabs his plate and settles back again. He doesn’t know how to explain that his thoughts are an inchoate rumble at the back of his mind and that they refuse to resolve into a plan of action. “I’m just scared,” he pokes at a carrot, picks it up with his chopsticks and breaks it in half. “I don’t know what to do.”</p>
<p>“You don’t have to do anything, hyung,” Jeongin tells him gently, “he’s coming back here for good, right? So, you have plenty of time to figure things out.” He shifts forward, pats Jisung’s knee, “there’s no rush.”</p>
<p>It does feel like there will be more time, what with the new year fast approaching and without having to wrangle timezones. But there’s also no rush because he has already figured this out. Maybe it’s not a certainty – who can foretell anything when the present itself is influenced by so many people all at once – but Jisung has a fair idea of the trajectory his feelings. It is familiar in many ways, even if the intensity is different. It has gained layers and contexts and understandings; it shines through new cracks, and it pulsates with a new rhythm –</p>
<p>“Wow, he’s really whipped,” Hyunjin says in a stage whisper and then the three of them start laughing.</p>
<p>Jisung flushes immediately, his face tingling with the force of it. He throws his head back to avoid their teasing smiles and groans. “I’m my own worst enemy.” He stuffs the last bite of his food and sighs with his cheeks full.</p>
<p>Felix drags Jisung to his side by throwing an arm on either side of his torso. “It’ll be fine, Jisungie. You’re his friend first and foremost and you can have fun.”</p>
<p>“Yeah,” Hyunjin says as he gathers all the plates and cutlery, “don’t overthink it. It’ll just stress you out.” He stands up and inclines his head towards the kitchen, “help me wash the dishes?”</p>
<p>Jisung nods and he smacks a kiss on Felix’s temple before leaving his side and following Hyunjin. It has started to snow and Jisung hums in delight when the warm water from the tap runs over his fingers. It’s the perfect weather for a nap, he thinks as he watches the drift of snow outside the window. He pours soap on the sponge.</p>
<p>“This year was very weird, wasn’t it?” Hyunjin says as he dries a plate, “so much happened all at once.” He places the plate on the rack, “And now it is ending.”</p>
<p>Jisung nods, turning his head towards Hyunjin as he starts washing a serving spoon. “There were a lot of changes.” They’ve planned to go drinking before they separate for Christmas, so they’ll probably rehash everything then. It’s strange how much space one’s past gets in the present. “I’m planning to dye my hair, soon,” he says, “to drive in the entire theme of change.”</p>
<p>Hyunjin snorts and flicks the drying cloth against Jisung’s forearm, “always so dramatic,” he teases, “you should go with the entire winter theme and dye your hair blue.”</p>
<p>Jisung sprays a few drops of water at him in retaliation. “You just want me to look like a blueberry,” he leans away from the more aggressive flick of Hyunjin’s towel, “and I don’t think it’ll suit me.”</p>
<p>“You’ll look great,” Hyunjin insists, grudgingly retracting his arm and picking up a utensil that Jisung has placed on the counter, “and you’ll look so sexy that Minho hyung will have no choice but to jump your bones.”</p>
<p>Jisung covers the nozzle of the tap with his thumb and directs the flow of water to Hyunjin’s face.</p>
<p>───────</p>
<p>
  <em>14<sup>th</sup> December, 20__</em>
</p>
<p>Jisung’s deep in a daydream, lulled by the murmur from the T.V. in the hall and the music that he is playing from his phone. Steam rises from the stew he is cooking and Jisung basks in the warmth of it. His thoughts are chasing and nipping at each other’s heels before dissolving and leaving a burst of gentle satisfaction.</p>
<p>Changbin’s still on the phone and his voice is wavering with amusement as he speaks. The stew starts bubbling and Jisung picks up the ladle to stir it. He stirs it once and he thinks, <em>past intertwines with the present, but people’s lives intersect with each others’ all the time</em>. He freezes, grasping at the edges of this thought, <em>and that intertwines with the present too</em>.</p>
<p>Epiphanies are supposed to be loud, he supposes, but such a tectonic shift in his personal philosophy doesn’t shake him, doesn’t cause even a rumble. He goes on stirring the stew. He remembers watching a TV show where the main character – an anthropomorphic tortoise – bemoans the fact he isn’t growing taller and has a use to stool to stand on while brushing his teeth. Jisung doesn’t recall other things from the episode except the end where without even realizing, the tortoise has outgrown the need for a stool.</p>
<p>That’s what it feels like, a realization that he has outgrown the need for the strict boundaries of his personal philosophy. Yes, the past intertwines with the present; yes, what he does right now will influence his future just as what he did in the past is influencing his present. But people’s lives intersect with and influence each other’s too, and everyone makes their own choices. He can only control what he can control.</p>
<p>“Sorry, my niece is really talkative,” Changbin says, peering into the pot. He makes an appreciative noise. “This stew smells much better than last time.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, I’ve stopped experimenting and I follow instruction to the word now,” Jisung replies, squinting at his phone that is propped up on the counter-top, “who knew that instructions are meant to be followed,” he jokes.</p>
<p>Changbin rubs his hands together. “Why don’t you become our cook? When will it be done?”</p>
<p>“Five to ten minutes more minutes,” Jisung puts the ladle away and checks on the rice. The scent of cooked rice gusts over his face the moment he opens the cooker. “And just so you know, I’m actually considering your offer. How much will you pay me?”</p>
<p>“I won’t pay you, Channie hyung will,” Changbin plucks at the apron that Jisung is wearing, “I can’t believe he looked like he was going to cry when you offered to cook.” He crosses his arms, “it’s not my fault that I got distracted by a bird on the windowsill!”</p>
<p>Jisung raises a brow. “It’s because you set a saucepan on fire, Binnie hyung.” He switches off the stove.</p>
<p>“You have no idea how cute that bird was! There are so many birds here and they’re all funny,” Changbin laughs, smacking Jisung’s shoulder before rummaging through a drawer for plates and bowls and placing them on the countertop.</p>
<p>“Hey! Don’t bite the hand that feeds you,” Jisung brandishes the ladle though he can’t help smiling. He starts filling the bowls.</p>
<p>Changbin pouts and crosses his arms. “Why do I feel like you’re going to keep using that line?”</p>
<p>“Because I will,” Jisung says, sticking out his tongue.</p>
<p>Changbin rolls his eyes. “Tomorrow I’m going to be cooking, let’s see if you are still so cocky then,” he calls over his shoulder as he carries the bowls to the table.</p>
<p>It’s barely six o’clock, but Changbin wants to try eating dinner early for health benefits or something, and Jisung doesn’t mind eating so soon. He has snacks back at home after all. Chan is still at his school, preparing for the winter fest that’s a few days away. As Jisung takes a bite of rice, he can’t help but marvel at how it’s December and that they’re already in the second week of it.</p>
<p>“It’ll be nice to have Minho hyung back.” Changbin sips water and waggles his brows over the rim of his glass when Jisung’s traitorous mouth splits in a smile. “We will be able to see you become a mess every time hyung looks at you.”</p>
<p>Jisung tries to school his features, but gives up halfway through. The warm, golden light of excitement is too pleasurable to ignore. “Unlike you and your sadistic tendencies, I’m just glad that Minho hyung is going to be back for good.” He takes a gulp of water because the stew is a touch too spicy. “He’ll be able to get his sleep schedule back to normal.”</p>
<p>Changbin gives him a funny look, half fond and half amused. “Sleep schedule, huh?”</p>
<p>Jisung looks away, self-conscious by this look he isn’t able to read. “Yeah? He said he has trouble sleeping because of all the travelling,” he bites his lips, unsure if he should’ve mentioned this to Changbin. “And it’ll be fun to hang out with him again.” He already has vague plans to take Minho to the tearoom with the mint walls because he has gut feeling that he’ll like it.</p>
<p>Changbin has stopped eating and he places his elbows on either side of his bowl. He joins the fingertips of his hands, rests them under his chin. “Yes, Minho hyung said that you talked to him a lot of nights when he couldn’t sleep.”</p>
<p>“Yeah,” he has an idea where this is going and he can’t bear the spice of the stew right now, so he’s left staring at his rice. He’s blushing and Changbin hasn’t even insinuated anything. “It’s boring to spend sleepless nights alone,” he says just to quell the silence.</p>
<p>“Cute,” says Changbin, dropping a hand and picking up his spoon again. “That’s how Chan hyung and I became friends back then, you know? We ran into each other a lot in the café at weird hours of the night.”</p>
<p>“Of course, how can anyone forget your meet-cute?” he teases, “and how Chan hyung basically forced you to get under his wing.”</p>
<p>Changbin smiles as he chews his food. “And here, I am, years later, with a feelings and stuff,” he shrugs, “we’re in the same boat. It’s… I find it weird how things have changed for me so many years later.” He shakes his head with a laugh, “I never thought that I would have romantic feelings for him one day.”</p>
<p>Jisung marvels at the way people have a million stories, only some of which intersect with his own. Hyunjin had a lived soul crushing months under the roof that he shared with Jisung without him ever knowing. Changbin and Chan have an entire arc of their own. And like Felix had said, months back, that they knew only Jisung’s side of the story. So many stories he has no idea about.</p>
<p>“The world is strange,” he says in a cheesy, blithe voice just to annoy Changbin, “and Binnie hyung’s greasy love story isn’t even in the top ten of strangest thing that have happened.”</p>
<p>“Wait, let me guess, your love story takes the spot, right?” Changbin shoots back, “we feel in love because of our shared existential crisis,” he clutches his chest, throws his head back, “and we shared nature videos with each other to soothe our souls.”</p>
<p>Jisung’s cheeks blaze and he splutters, “what – shut up! I was just joking – you’re the one with the coffeeshop meet cute!”</p>
<p>“Jisung,” Changbin laughs, “you and Minho hyung are the most dramatic and sentimental people I’ve ever met,” he tears up as he laughs harder, “and you know what’s funnier? Minho hyung is like this only with <em>you</em>.”</p>
<p>Jisung whines and pushes his chair away from the table. “You’re horrible, Binnie hyung and –”</p>
<p>“You know what I think you should do,” Changbin interrupts and then pauses.</p>
<p>“What?” Jisung grumbles, stopping halfway in his mad dash to the kitchen to get more water.</p>
<p>Changbin considers him for a moment longer and then relaxes back in his chair. “Nothing,” he flicks a hand, “I need more water too.”</p>
<p>───────</p>
<p>
  <em>15<sup>th</sup> December, 20__</em>
</p>
<p>Chan and Jisung decide on a roadside restaurant, and Changbin makes affronted huffs every two seconds until Chan agrees to pay for his meal. They spend the entire time bickering and teasing each other, and Jisung is able to forget their suggestion as he makes a game of waggling his brows at Changbin every time Chan isn’t looking.</p>
<p>It isn’t snowing tonight, but the wind is frosty and it stings his bare fingers to the bones even though they’re nestled in the pockets of his coat. He doesn’t know if it’s like this for everyone, but every time a festival is around the corner, he can feel an excited buzz in every corner of the city.</p>
<p>Once they reach the apartment complex, Jisung bids them goodnight and walks the short path to his building alone. His thoughts immediately flood to the forefront in the disquieting silence that follows in the moments after you part from company. As he ascends the stairs, he stops trying to make sense of his emotions and thoughts. It’s like trying to see the bottom of a muddy glass of water before the sediments settle.</p>
<p>That doesn’t mean that the swirl of it isn’t dizzying, but Jisung distracts himself by opening his laptop again and starting with the article he’d left incomplete earlier today. He chews on a hangnail as he stares at the blinking cursor. This commission isn’t due till next week, and it is uninteresting as usual. But he’s supposed to be excited by the fact that he has a couple of projects on hand because it means money which means he doesn’t have to turn to his parents to save him. Yet, resentment swamps him all over again.</p>
<p>He groans and goes to the kitchen to make coffee. Unless he is ready to switch careers, he has to grit his teeth and continue writing even if it feels like plucking his teeth out. He takes out a packet of instant coffee and changes his mind. He fills a glass with water instead and goes straight to his bedroom. <em>Tomorrow</em>, he tells himself as he undresses, <em>tomorrow I’ll start working with a fresh mind. </em></p>
<p>But sleep doesn’t come easy because he can’t stop thinking about the cost of a career change.</p>
<p>───────</p>
<p>
  <em>16<sup>th</sup> December, 20__</em>
</p>
<p>“Maybe we should ask Seungminnie hyung about what Minho hyung thinks,” Jeongin suggests, skipping over a puddle. Bright coloured lights from the shop fronts sparkle on his sleeves.</p>
<p>“I will eviscerate all of you and hang you from your intestines on the rafters,” Jisung threatens, stomach dropping. “What happened to, ‘<em>do what you feel is right’</em>?”</p>
<p>“That was before Minho hyung started behaving so conspicuously,” Hyunjin replies, grabbing Jisung’s sleeve and dragging him away from the path of a group of people who aren’t looking where they’re walking. “He gave you the lamest excuse ever and you don’t even understand it.”</p>
<p>Felix leaves Jeongin’s side and gets behind Jisung and Hyunjin. “I always knew that the both of them will be super embarrassing together,” he comments, whacking Jisung’s ass with his shopping bag.</p>
<p>Jisung groans and buries his chin deeper into his scarf, praying that they arrive at the pub soon. He’d spent all morning and afternoon forcing himself to write and then battling crowds of shoppers at the stores had sucked the rest of his mental energy. He cannot defend himself in such a state.</p>
<p>“I am still annoyed that I wasn’t part of the original ‘I like Minho hyung’ conversation because the second one was one hell of a ride,” Jeongin laughs, switching the shopping bags he’s carrying to the other hand and flicking Jisung’s beanie. “I wasn’t very close to you guys then, but I deserved to know.”</p>
<p>“It was the same, except he didn’t wail that much,” says Hyunjin because he’s a traitor, “now that I think about it, it was more subdued than this one.”</p>
<p><em>It’s because I hadn’t embarrassed myself back then</em>, Jisung thinks. “Let’s talk about Hyun-cliff and Felix,” Jisung says after smacking Hyunjin with the shopping bag he’s holding. Hyunjin flicks his beanie in retaliation.</p>
<p>They arrive at a zebra crossing and an old man frowns at them. Jisung refrains from hitting Hyunjin again. “Hyunchul was being more Byronic than ever, these past few weeks because Felix didn’t come over as often,” he whispers, glancing at Felix who has his tongue pressed against his cheek as he rolls his eyes.</p>
<p>“Stop trying to change the topic!”</p>
<p>“You are all a mess,” Hyunjin says, grasping Jisung’s arm as they cross to the other side of the road. “Only Doyeon and I went about it like adults.”</p>
<p>Jeongin snorts. “Didn’t you cry once because you misplaced one of Doyeon’s scarf?””</p>
<p>“I want to know why Jeongin remembers every embarrassing thing that we’ve ever done,” Felix says.</p>
<p>“I don’t think you guys know how embarrassing you all are,” Jeongin shakes his head, “it is truly horrifying sometimes.”</p>
<p>Felix says something, but Jisung’s thoughts drift to Minho. He doesn’t really believe that Minho was just finding an excuse to stay with him because that apartment of his is really a mausoleum. But the possibility of it makes still makes his heart jolt.  </p>
<p>“Alright?” Felix asks, hovering by Jisung’s elbow.</p>
<p>Jisung realises with a start that they’ve stopped in front of the pub. He grins, a bit sheepish and nods. “Yeah, sorry. I got lost for a minute.”</p>
<p>Felix opens the door, and Jisung slips inside. Except for Jisung, all of them are leaving in the next couple of days and they’ll be coming back only after New Year’s. Jisung’s mom has expertly maneuvered the sticky pieces of familial expectation, so Jisung has to visit his aunt and his frighteningly competent, foreign returned cousins on the 24<sup>th</sup> and then he can leave on the 26<sup>th</sup>. This means that he only has to bear having his self-esteem battered for a couple of days, and he is endlessly grateful for it.</p>
<p>The air inside the pub is heavy and the thick muted hum of people is broken by the clink of glasses. Soft overhead lights glitter on the drinks. Jisung catches sight of Hyunjin and Jeongin wrangling for a table using their dubious charms.</p>
<p>“Hey, we’re just teasing, you know that, right?” Felix asks as he peels off his jacket. His eyes are intent. “You really don’t have to do anything even though it will be nice if you had someone to kiss on New Year’s Eve.” The look in his eyes turns to one of mischief as he speaks.</p>
<p>Jisung groans as he follows the direction Hyunjin’s raised hand. “I don’t even know what is happening,” he mutters, “my neurons are overwhelmed with all the conflicting emotions and stuff.”</p>
<p>“Let your heart lead you,” Felix sings. Jisung gags and shoves Felix away from him.</p>
<p>“I can’t believe yet another year’s gone,” Jeongin says after they get their table and their drinks, “it just swept past me before I could blink.”</p>
<p>Felix chuckles, already a little flushed from the shots they started off with on Jisung’s insistence. “That’s how youth fades, one year at a time.” He tips his head back as he takes another shot. “Soon I’ll be having my quarter life crisis.” There’s a smattering of salt on his nose, “not that I go a week without a crisis, mind you.”</p>
<p>The edges of Jisung’s thoughts are softening even as he becomes hyperaware of every other sensation. A tightness in his shoulders that was long undetected, loosens, flows away and joins the warmth cascading down his spine as alcohol sinks into his bloodstream. “We are crisis twins,” he crows, unabashedly happy to share something with Felix. Felix wraps his arm around his shoulder and Jisung burrows into his side.</p>
<p>Hyunjin raises a brow over his glass then shares a look with Jeongin. Jisung thinks of another night, a long time ago now, when Hyunjin had insisted that the stars had brought them together. How they had agreed that drowning in a sea didn’t feel scary when they knew that there was support.</p>
<p>“We’re all drowning together,” Jisung says, stumbling over his words, “but there are seven different seas. It’s – life sucks for everyone.”</p>
<p>Hyunjin looks surprised then his face smooths into a smile. “That’s true.”</p>
<p>Jisung leans back, satisfied and already losing the trail of what he was going to say next. He sips his cocktail and it stings his chapped lips before fanning the flames in his belly. He presses closer to Felix’s side when he starts humming ‘Seven Seas of Rhye’, his voice reverberating in the air.</p>
<p>Jeongin drains the rest of his drink and raises his empty glass. “Let’s hope that next year is better than this one, but not worse. Let’s hope that it doesn’t turn into a clusterfuck.”</p>
<p>“Amen,” Jisung says and throws a lemon wedge at him.</p>
<p>───────</p>
<p>
  <em>17<sup>th</sup> December, 20__</em>
</p>
<p>Hyunchul is lounging against the wall, his scarf billowing in the wind. Jisung curses himself again for forgetting his gloves. His fingertips have long since gone red and numb, and he can barely hold on to Lock’s leash.</p>
<p>Hyunchul studies him as he walks to the entrance, mouth opening and closing. Lock starts wagging her tail when she notices Hyunchul and Jisung feels a little pang when his eyes flicker beyond Jisung. Jisung wishes he could do something, offer hope maybe, but it isn’t really his place.</p>
<p>“Hello,” he says as he approaches the entrance, “how were your exams?”</p>
<p>“Still going on,” Hyunchul answers in that droll voice of his, “we have a lot more written exams than the Masters’ students,” he adds, then flushes, looking caught.</p>
<p>“Ah, I did think it was strange that Jeongin and Felix got done so quickly,” Jisung says. Lock sits down, her swinging tail dislodging the light dusting of snow. “I am taking care of her,” he jiggles the leash, “till Felix gets back from his trip abroad.”</p>
<p>Hyunchul bends at his knees to pat Lock’s head and squeaks when she snuffles against his wrist. “Don’t forget to pay the rent for next month,” he says and then pauses, “also don’t forget to collect your cookies from the office.” With that he vanishes inside the building.</p>
<p>“That man’s an odd duck,” Jisung tells Lock who ‘bu-owffs’ in agreement.</p>
<p>───────</p>
<p><strong>Minho</strong>: I’m done packing and now it’s time to get drunk and cry about Seungmin not coming with me</p>
<p><strong>Jisung</strong>: and pretend that it never happened tomorrow?</p>
<p><strong>Minho</strong>: Of course</p>
<p><strong>Minho</strong>: I’m excited to see you</p>
<p>Jisung stares at his screen, waiting for a jokey follow up. Something along the lines of, <em>so that I can make fun of you face to face</em>, but the message remains at the bottom of his screen with expectant weight to it. Jisung continues staring, but everything is the same.</p>
<p>Minho switches between teasing and sappy so quickly that it leaves Jisung’s head spinning. “I’m so screwed,” he tells Lock and she raises her head from her paws to look at him. “Oh no, it’s okay, go back to sleep.”</p>
<p>Lock still continues looking at him as he types back, <em>i am too!! </em>He drops his phone on the sofa and sighs. “You’ll have a front seat view of me embarrassing myself for three days straight,” he mumbles, face buried in his hands.</p>
<p>───────</p>
<p>
  <em>18<sup>th</sup> December, 20__</em>
</p>
<p>“New year, new me,” he tells his reflection, and his reflection smiles at him nervously.</p>
<p>Jisung fluffs his hair, shorter and dyed blue. He doesn’t look much different; he sees the same wide eyes, and full cheeks and patchy stubble as he did yesterday. But the haircut exposes his forehead, however, and makes the curve of his brow bones look stronger, so he decides that he likes it.</p>
<p>“This is very clichéd,” he says to his phone as he tries to find the correct angle to capture the haircut and colour. “But I love it!” He takes a couple of photos and leaves the bathroom after checking himself out one last time. His stomach dips when the light deepens the blue of his hair.</p>
<p>Lock raises her head when he enters the bedroom. “Hey Lock,” he wiggles his fingers, “I am not blond like you anymore,” he says. He laughs when Lock’s eyes slip shut. He flicks off the lights and goes to the kitchen to get himself some food. The moment he opens the cabinet; he hears the click of Lock’s toenails on the wooden floors. He smiles and picks out a few bone shaped dog treats.</p>
<p>Lock enters the kitchen, and Jisung thinks of the small, fat puppy that Felix had brought home one day, looking sheepish and exhilarated all at once. “Did you know that Felix had only ever taken care of a cactus before you?” he asks Lock. “And all of us, I suppose, but we were thrust upon him when he became friends with us.”</p>
<p>Lock waits politely, her eyes fixed on Jisung’s fist. “Its name was Fig,” he says. Lock stares at him and a second later she whips her head to the side and skitters to the window.</p>
<p>“What is it?” he asks, following her and smiling when she puts her front paws on the ledge of the window. She’s making soft, growling noises, but acquiesces when Jisung nudges her away to open the window. Cold wind rushes into the room, and he grits his teeth, realising his foolishness. He is about to close the door when he catches a flash of brown and grey.</p>
<p>He squints and when his eyes adjust to the spreading darkness of a winter evening, he sees that it is a bird. The bird gives them a flat look before flying to its nest, which is in the gutter that surrounds the top of the building.</p>
<p>“Birds make a home anywhere,” he tells Lock before closing the window. The cold air that he has let into the kitchen is still biting, and it resists the call of artificial heat. “This building really has a bird problem, I guess, Binnie hyung nearly burnt down his kitchen looking at one,” he adds with a chuckle.</p>
<p>Lock nudges his fist. Jisung sighs fondly and gives her the treats.</p>
<p>───────</p>
<p><strong>Jisung</strong>: [image attached]</p>
<p><strong>Minho</strong>: Oh my god</p>
<p><strong>Jisung</strong>: is it a good oh my god or a bad one???</p>
<p><strong>Minho</strong>: You look good Jisungie</p>
<p><strong>Minho</strong>: Really, really good</p>
<p><strong>Jisung</strong>: (✿◠‿◠)</p>
<p><strong>Jisung</strong>: fanks i didn’t do it myself</p>
<p><strong>Jisung</strong>: (i paid a lot for it to be done tho)</p>
<p>───────</p>
<p>
  <strong>Dead – er – est – estest – Jeongin</strong>
</p>
<p><strong>Seungmin</strong>: Looks good Jisung ✌</p>
<p><strong>Jeongin</strong>: damn i can finally rest my eyes upon you for more than 5 mins lol</p>
<p><strong>Jisung</strong>: i disown you</p>
<p>───────</p>
<p>Hyunjin calls him around afternoon. “Nice haircut,” he says. “It really suits you.”</p>
<p>Jisung smiles. “Thanks,” he replies. “I was nervous that it’ll turn out bad, but I am surprised at the results.”</p>
<p>“I’m always right and you don’t realise that you can pull off any hair colour. It’s good that you have me. Anyway, have you combusted yet? Or are you just doing that ‘I’m going to die soon’ staring thing you do?” he snickers. There’s a strange fluting music in the background. Elevator music, Jisung guesses.</p>
<p>“None of the above,” Jisung says. “I mean, yeah, I’ll probably combust with awkwardness when he gets here though.”</p>
<p>Hyunjin laughs. “That’ll be an amazing welcome.”</p>
<p>“Yeah. Nothing but the best from my side.” Jisung wipes a bit of dust from his laptop screen, “I don’t know, Jinnie, I have no idea what to expect.”</p>
<p>“You’ll be fine. It’s Minho hyung and we’ve told you this a million times, but he’s your friend, okay? You don’t have to worry. Plus, he has a massive soft spot–”</p>
<p>“He doesn’t!” Jisung interjects.</p>
<p>“Yeah, he does,” Hyunjin says. There’s a beep then a whine of a door in the background, “If someone video called me that many times, I would kick their ass. By the way, send me photos of Lock. I miss her. Not you though,” Hyunjin teases.</p>
<p>“I’m not going to send you pictures just because you said that.” Jisung frowns at his fingertips. His screen is dustier than he thought.</p>
<p>“I’ll just ask Felix to forward them to me,” Hyunjin says. “Anyway, I’ll call you later. Doyeon’s waiting. It’ll be fine, okay? Don’t stress.”</p>
<p>“Yeah,” Jisung sighs, “you go and have fun now. Send me pictures.”</p>
<p>“No!”</p>
<p>───────</p>
<p>
  <em>19<sup>th</sup> December, 20__</em>
</p>
<p>Jisung goes to the gift store in the afternoon before evening shoppers fill it to the brim. He is ashamed by the pdf he’d sent Minho for his birthday and though it is cute, he has long given up on trying to understand the random moments of intense embarrassment he feels. He intends to make up for it and then fall into the cycle of ‘I did <em>that</em> – but I made up for it – but I did <em>that</em> – I made up for it.’</p>
<p>“He likes trinkets,” he tells Chan as they walk past the shelf containing discounted items. It is filled with tacky monstrosities, “so it’s really easy to buy gifts for him.” He doesn’t know why he is giving an explanation since Chan has known Minho for longer, but he feels like he did when he was fifteen and too aware of his limbs and voice and existence and mortified by them all.</p>
<p>Chan nods and picks up a tiny hourglass. The pink sand inside it starts cascading down. He has to stay here till the 23<sup>rd</sup> at least because that’s when the unwanted and strictly regimented festivities at his school end. He looks exhausted and soft in his big hoodie and Jisung understands Changbin’s distressed expression when he had knocked on their door earlier this evening.</p>
<p>“And you love getting food coupons,” Chan says with a smirk, “it’s really easy to give gifts to both of you.”</p>
<p>Jisung considers a small sea globe, its intense blues and greens melding together and the sand inside sparkling like stars when he shakes it. “I just hate spending money on like, essentials when I could spend them on non-essentials,” he jokes as he checks the price.</p>
<p>“The first disappointment of adulthood is having to pick the essentials,” Chan laughs as he leads the way to the display of greeting cards. “But you can choose not to do that, and that’s where the fun is, I think.”</p>
<p>Jisung watches the sand settle at the bottom of the globe and time stretches around him, pulls him into its whirl. He feels his existence to the very last atom of his body and he’s light headed with the sudden joy of being alive and of being here – in this gift shop with Chan, buying a gift for Minho and with gifts for his other friends lying at the bottom of his closet. He just likes being Han Jisung, with his past, present and future all intertwining together.</p>
<p>“Minho hyung said that we can find happiness even amidst all the chaos,” Jisung says and his voice is wavering a little. “I think that’s what adulthood is – trying to find happiness even as the world carries on without waiting for you … finding people who will be… there for you.”</p>
<p>Chan reaches a hand forward and ruffles his hair. “You sound all old and wise now, Jisungie.”</p>
<p>“It’s because I spent months overthinking every little thing in my life,” Jisung says and he shakes the globe harder, “you can become as wise as me if you start overthinking as much as me.”</p>
<p>“Oh no, thanks. I’ll just outsource it to you,” Chan says and ruffles Jisung’s hair again.</p>
<p>───────</p>
<p><strong>Jisung</strong>: should i pick you up from the airport?</p>
<p><strong>Minho</strong>: Nah. Just send me your address</p>
<p><strong>Minho</strong>: I’ll drive over myself</p>
<p>───────</p>
<p>
  <em>20<sup>th</sup> December, 20__</em>
</p>
<p>“Jisung,” Chan says, amused, “I am pretty sure Minho won’t care about the sleeping arrangements. You’ve shown him your flat before, right?” His face is crinkled in a smile, and it is comforting enough that the pulsing block of worry in his stomach is displaced a little.</p>
<p>Jisung sighs and his breath becomes mist the moment he opens his mouth and it dissolves just as fast in the swift wind that’s blowing today. “I’m not nervous,” he tells Chan, “it is just–” <em>I don’t want to ruin anything and I don’t know what to do</em>.</p>
<p>“He’s only going to be staying with you for a couple of days at most,” Chan adds, waving and nodding at a parent. “You’ll manage, Jisungie.”</p>
<p>Yes, he can manage, but he doesn’t know how to explain that he’s excited too, and he’s afraid that there’s equal chances of him making things worse with his eagerness and along with his awkwardness. The speakers start blaring Changbin’s voice. He is the emcee for the Winter Fest, and it is strange to hear him speak in that smooth, practiced prattle of radio presenters. “Does he do this every year?” he says instead, gesturing towards the sleek stage.</p>
<p>“No,” Chan’s face softens, and he scratches the back of his neck, “I asked him as a favour because our budget was a bit tight this year and he agreed.”</p>
<p>“Changbin hyung’s great,” Jisung says over the sounds of students cheering when Changbin announces something.</p>
<p>Chan’s smile widens. “That he is,” he agrees. “Listen, my break is almost done; I’ll go back to my stall and see if it is burned down. Text me before you leave, Jisungie.”</p>
<p>Jisung loses himself in the thrum of people after that, swept away by their chatter and excitement. This is a cloistered world of its own, and for an hour or so Jisung is merely a spectator, trying to understand the threads of relationships and politics that sustain it. He plays a few games, wins nothing. He tries other games, ducking from one rickety stall to another. He observes people who play before him and laughs when he fails.</p>
<p>The students have arranged everything, and they man most of the stalls. They treat him with the same deference that he holds for adults, and it dawns on him that he is an… adult. Slightly shaken, he makes his way under the glittering lights and tinsel, a frosty wind ruffling his hair and creeping down his neck.</p>
<p>Changbin texts him to come to the cotton candy stall, and Jisung follows the winding way back to the food stalls. The smell of food wafts to him when he nears the food section, and he follows the peculiar, warm sugar smell that cotton candy has. Changbin thrusts the blue cotton candy into his hand the moment Jisung approaches him.</p>
<p>“I am going to confess soon,” Changbin announces.</p>
<p>Jisung freezes, cotton candy half way to his mouth. “On the stage?”</p>
<p>“What? No!” Changbin’s eyes grow wide in alarm. “Of course not, but soon. And in private.”</p>
<p>Jisung follows Changbin to a corner. Changbin holds the cotton candy as if he has forgotten what to do with it. Shrieks of laughter drift in the air, and the principal drones on, heedless of the complete lack of attention from everyone. “Might as well get it done with. He’s so hard to read, you know,” Changbin complains.</p>
<p>Jisung takes a bite, lets it melt in his mouth. “Yeah, he is a bit. Good luck, hyung, I kinda have a good feeling about this and you’re a catch,” he says, licking the sugar sticking to the top of his lips. He offers an encouraging smile, and Changbin returns a pleased grin.</p>
<p>“I think you should too,” Changbin says. “Get it out of the way. Don’t drink this time, obviously, but just,” he shrugs, waves the white cotton candy. It looks like he’s wielding a plume of smoke. “Go for it.”</p>
<p>Everything dims as the sun meanders behind thick clouds. It will snow later, maybe when Minho arrives. He would be in the plane now. Jisung clenches his jaw and the hand holding the cotton candy. A splinter in the wood pricks him. “Let’s see,” he mumbles.</p>
<p>Changbin gives him an inscrutable look, but doesn’t say press. Jisung presses his shoulder against Changbin’s. Across their corner, students start lighting lamps and even though it is not yet four in the afternoon, the light dispels a fair amount of darkness. It’s the kind of darkness that is not noticeable until someone flicks on a light.</p>
<p>“I am glad,” says Jisung, “that we’re friends.”</p>
<p>Changbin’s beams and knocks his shoulder against Jisung.  “I am too, Jisungie. This time don’t forget me after new year’s, okay?”</p>
<p>Jisung flushes both with fondness and shame. “Not a chance,” he declares, “next year will be different.”</p>
<p>───────</p>
<p>His brain runs on a hamster wheel of worry and fear the whole evening. Every update from Minho makes his heart plummet and soar at the same time. By the time the clock strikes half past seven, he has worn a hole into the buttercup rug. Lock thinks it is a game and bounds beside him, her ridiculous tail wagging at top speed.</p>
<p>It is snowing and the ceaseless flurry obscures the view from his windows. All the lights are blazing, and they lap up every shadow with hunger. The walls wait in breathless silence as the wind shakes the trees outside. He worries about the traffic since Minho is driving in the snow, but he doesn’t want to text him and disturb him.</p>
<p>“He should be here soon,” he tells Lock who looks at him with her tongue lolling out. Her fur gleams in the brilliant light, and he drops to his knees to hug her. “I hope I am a golden retriever in my next life,” he says. “You’re just happy no matter what.” Lock doesn’t seem to understand, but she licks his cheek all the same.</p>
<p>The clock is about to strike eight when the doorbell rings. Jisung flies to the door and fumbles with the locks. He pulls it open to see Hyunchul standing before him, sweaty and red-faced. Jisung blinks at him, the sudden roar of excitement curling and popping in a second.</p>
<p>“Your friend can’t find parking space,” Hyunchul pants, “so I offered to bring his luggage upstairs.”</p>
<p>“Right. Right,” Jisung says, still staggered and now a little guilty, “shit! sorry, here let me help.” He opens the door wider, steps to the side. Hyunchul rolls both the suitcases inside and leaves them flush against the wall.</p>
<p>Lock rushes to him and sniffs his feet, and Jisung watches with amusement when Hyunchul pets her with the same solemnity with which one touches a bear-trap. “Hello, Lock,” he says and Lock’s tail thumps harder. Hyunchul startles, and gives her a few more measured pats before straightening his back.</p>
<p>“How are you so skittish around animals when this apartment complex is animal friendly?” Jisung asks tamping down on the guilty itch to shoo him away.</p>
<p>“I usually keep away,” he says. “Bye, Lock,” he adds gravely and nods at Jisung before leaving.</p>
<p>Jisung looks at Lock who is sniffing the suitcases. “Tell Felix that he usually keeps away,” he snickers, but Lock doesn’t pay him any mind.</p>
<p>Jisung knows that there are only a few minutes before Minho arrives, and this inevitability makes his stomach squirm. He is not able to stop a silly smile from touching his lips, nor is he able to quell nervousness from stabbing his gut every second. He sighs and hovers near the open door even though goosebumps rise on his arms.</p>
<p>Then he hears it, the thumping sound of someone moving up the stairs. His heart seizes and he has the urge to run and hide, but it is too late. Minho turns around the corner and the smile that unfurls on his face when he sees Jisung makes his own stretch till his face aches. Minho’s expression turns sheepish because he still has to traverse the length of the corridor, and Jisung continues beaming because his brain has frozen.</p>
<p>It’s awkward enough that Minho starts chuckling as he reaches the door. “Sungie? Earth to Jisung.”</p>
<p>Jisung snaps out of his daze. “Welcome to my humble abode,” he stammers, flushing as he steps to the side to let Minho enter and bumps into Lock. “Shit!” he stumbles and Minho’s hand darts out to steady him. <em>I lead an accursed existence</em>, Jisung think miserably as Minho’s gloved hand drops from his elbow. “Thanks, um – this is Lock, Felix’s dog.”</p>
<p>Eyes still dancing in amusement, Minho drops to his knees to offer Lock his hand. “Hello,” Minho’s voice goes higher as he shakes her hand.</p>
<p>Jisung pats his cheeks and shakes his head to clear it while Minho is occupied with Lock. He needs to get a grip before he embarrasses himself more.</p>
<p>“She’s really cute,” Minho says, looking up at him. He’s sitting down now and he stretches out a leg to take off his shoes. Lock continues snuffling at his cheek.</p>
<p>Jisung’s heart trips at the softness permeating Minho, in his eyes and his mouth and even his bearing. Soft and concentrated in the small space of Jisung’s landing, overpowering in the way the waves that mould glass on the shore are. <em>I’m a fool</em>, Jisung thinks. How sad is it that his blood still sings and flows to his cheeks?</p>
<p>“That’s seal and seaweed,” Jisung points to his beanbags after Minho is shoeless and coatless, “and that’s buttercup. I haven’t named the sofa yet. Or anything else for that matter.” He knows he is babbling, but Minho is looking at him with a peculiar warmth that he can’t acknowledge without combusting right then and there.</p>
<p>“They’re well-chosen names,” Minho says seriously. Then he steps closer and pats the underside of Jisung’s chin, “and it’s okay,” his voice drops, “I’m nervous too,” he admits.</p>
<p>They’re too close and Minho’s rumpled clothes smell like airport and stale cologne. Jisung is overwhelmed and he feels bare and exposed even though he is enclosed by the four walls of his home and bundled in thick winter clothes. Minho runs a hand through his hair now and he bites his lower lip hard enough to leave indents. Jisung moves and hugs Minho in an awkward, quick motion and his face burns when Minho drags him closer. “I’m glad you’re here,” he says to the skin of Minho’s throat. He chances a look and finds that Minho is flushed too.</p>
<p>“I – I am too,” Minho says, faltering, as he gently untangles his arms. “I am so glad that I’m here.”</p>
<p>───────</p>
<p>Minho takes over the bathroom to freshen up after that, and Jisung goes to the kitchen to cook. If he spends five minutes whining into the dark shroud of his hands then it’s his business. His friends were right, they’re <em>both</em> ridiculously embarrassing.</p>
<p>It is snowing again and over the muted honking of cars and the sound of a pressure cooker whistling from the apartment below his, he can hear water running in the bathroom and the roar of the flush tank. It has been so long since he had shared space with someone in his home that these sounds refuse to meld with the ambient noise.</p>
<p>He makes bibimbap and the repetitive motion of chopping vegetables soothes him. Lock lies on the floor and watches him with sharp, bright eyes. “Are you this attentive when there are thieves prowling around?” he asks her as he peels a carrot.</p>
<p>Lock raises a paw and furrows her brows as if she is unsure of why this ‘thief’ thing is her business. Jisung sighs and offers her half a carrot which she takes to her bed in the living room.</p>
<p>He’s frying an egg when Minho emerges from the bathroom. He is barefaced and dressed in clothes that are too big for him. His wet hair brushes the tops of his shoulder. “Your hair has grown so long,” Jisung says, throat clicking when he swallows.</p>
<p>Minho runs fingers through his hair and tugs at it before flashing a lazy smile. “Yeah, I was too bored to get it cut and now I want to see what it’ll look like long.”</p>
<p>“It really suits you.” Jisung fiddles with the knob of the stove. “Can you please get the cutlery?” he points at the drawer with the spatula he’s holding.</p>
<p>Minho’s shoulder brushes against his as he passes Jisung. He doesn’t really feel it because they’re both wearing thick sweaters, but there’s still a flare of heat and Jisung turns the stove off with an annoyed jerk of his hand. <em>Get a grip</em>.</p>
<p>“Did I tell you that you looking amazing with blue hair?” Minho places the bowls and chopsticks on the countertop, “it really suits you.”</p>
<p>“Thank you,” Jisung says weakly as he serves the bibimbap from the mixing bowl. Minho’s presence fills all the space in the kitchen. Not in a bad way, but it is impossible to ignore him. Or maybe it’s just Jisung who is hyperaware.</p>
<p>They eat on the floor, and Jisung doesn’t try making conversation because Minho is inhaling his food at top speed. Instead, he tucks his feet under Lock’s warm belly and ignores her pleading eyes. Minho is sitting close enough that if Jisung stretches his leg, then their thighs will brush.  </p>
<p>“Dogs definitely beg better than cats,” Minho observes. He has already finished his meal, and he stares at his empty bowl with vague befuddlement.</p>
<p>Jisung hides a smile. “I read that it’s because dogs evolved eyebrows to communicate better with us or something,” he says as he transfers some of his bibimbap – it needs a little more salt, but otherwise it is perfect – to Minho’s bowl. “Cats just look unimpressed and cute all the time.” He pushes Lock’s snout away with his shin.</p>
<p>Minho grins in delight. “Thanks, Jisungie,” he says and raises a hand to flick Jisung’s brow, “and how can I believe you? You seem a bit partial to using brows for communication.”</p>
<p>Jisung pouts, “I am not the one saying it, I read it in a science mag.”</p>
<p>Minho’s eyes drop to his bowl. “Maybe that means you’re a dog too.”</p>
<p>“Yes, hyung, that is the most obvious conclusion that we draw from it,” he rolls his eyes. “Now I understand the urge to chase cars,” he says.</p>
<p>“And squirrels,” Minho taps his chin, “and also why you’re an expert at making puppy dog eyes. See, I’ve only been here for a couple of hours and I’m already helping you figure out your inner truth.”</p>
<p> “Thank you,” Jisung gives him a short, sarcastic bow, “now that I have figured out who I am; I am only left with the other…” he pretends to think, “ninety-nine existential questions.”</p>
<p>Minho shrugs as he scoops a spoonful of rice, “that’s all I can do, you have to figure out the rest for yourself.”</p>
<p><em>I just have to figure out what to do</em>. He might be too small for this big world, but he isn’t dumb. There are all sorts of implications buzzing at the edges of the space between them and he knows that he isn’t imagining it. Being in the same space makes it easy to see things beyond their contours.</p>
<p>Jisung doesn’t reply and there’s a rightness settling on him with the warmth of a cloak. That’s the only way he can describe it – being encircled and surrounded from his shoulders to his toes. He’s old enough to know that he should cherish it whenever he feels it. Minho stretches out his legs at that moment and he can feel the warmth of Minho’s thigh against his.</p>
<p>───────</p>
<p>Minho insists on following Jisung to the kitchen to clean up even though he looks tired and haggard.</p>
<p>“Even if I go to bed, sleep doesn’t come easily, so I might as well talk to you,” Minho tells him when Jisung insists that he should rest.</p>
<p>“That makes it sound like I’m boring,” Jisung says as he pulls on his rubber gloves. He wiggles his fingers, delighted by having bought it for an adult undertaking like washing the dishes. Even Felix doesn’t use rubber gloves.</p>
<p>Minho smirks, “the doctor said I should try alternative medicines too.”</p>
<p>Jisung fills the hollow of his cupped palms with water and throws it on Minho’s face. Minho sputters as he wipes away the water from his eyes. “I’m sorry,” Jisung laughs, enjoying the murderous look on Minho’s face – and also maybe the way his lashes are so dark and pretty when wet – “I only provide medicines for waking up.”</p>
<p>Minho picks up a half full glass of water and manages to grab Jisung by his waist before he can dash away. Jisung shrieks when water cascades down his neck and tries to fight away from Minho’s grip. “You will regret this!” he shouts, reaching his fingers up to tickle Minho’s neck.</p>
<p>Fifteen minutes later, Jisung hands Minho a mop. “Such a mess,” he shakes his head, “who is the hyung here?” He yelps when Minho pinches the underside of his arm.</p>
<p>“Keep talking and you’ll get to know what it’s like to be a mop,” Minho threatens and Jisung wisely returns to the sink. “I only wanted to talk to you because I haven’t spoken to you properly this week and you betray me like this,” Minho sighs.</p>
<p>He doesn’t tell Minho that he’d been a part of most of Jisung’s conversations even if they hadn’t spoken. “You were busy with packing,” Jisung pours a bit of soap on the scrubber, “and now that you’re here, we can make up for it.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, we will,” Minho replies and he’s in the other side of the kitchen now. It is the first time tonight that he is this far away. “But only till the 24<sup>th</sup>,” he adds in a murmur.</p>
<p>“And also after I return,” Jisung watches the suds runs down the plate. The back of his neck is hot and his skin itches where his wet sweater sticks to him. “You’ll be right here and I will be too.” It’s a promise. Jisung glances at Minho.</p>
<p>Minho opens and closes his mouth a few times, as if he is considering and discarding multiple responses. “I can’t wait,” is what he says and that sounds like a promise, too.</p>
<p>───────</p>
<p>
  <em>21<sup>st</sup> December, 20__</em>
</p>
<p>Minho is shaking his shoulders and Jisung wakes at what he knows is an unjustifiable hour. “Huh?” he asks because Minho’s voice is just a blip of sound in his ears. “Wait… m’ brain,” he grumbles.</p>
<p>Minho stops talking.</p>
<p>It takes him a few minutes, but he eventually remembers that he is on his sofa and that Minho is visiting him. He pulls the blanket away from his face and blinks at Minho. Minho is standing next to him, eyes wide and hair askew.</p>
<p>“What is it, hyung?” he says, trying to fight the way his mind tries to dissolve into sleep.</p>
<p>“Where do you keep salt?” Minho’s voice is low, but there’s none of the morning rasp to it. He sounds alert and awake.</p>
<p>Jisung wonders how long he has been awake, and if he slept at all. “Bottom shelf,” he mumbles, ready to drift off again, but Minho speaks again.</p>
<p>“Who keeps salt in the bottom cabinet?” he whispers, “is this civilised behaviour?”</p>
<p>Jisung peels his eyes open and glowers at him. “Oh my god! It’s just a shelf!”</p>
<p>“Why do you want to keep bending down every time you want to get salt? That’s why I hate badminton – you have to keep bending down to pick up the shuttle.”</p>
<p>“Let me sleep,” Jisung begs, exasperated and a second away from whacking him with a pillow, “you can do whatever you want to my salt and you never have to play badminton again.”</p>
<p>Minho huffs and his eyes crinkle too prettily for Jisung to handle while he’s teetering in the fuzzy space between sleep and wakefulness. His mind is too permeable, too credulous and Minho’s smile and the soft edges of it seem like a reflection of what Jisung’s heart is feeling.</p>
<p>“You’re lucky you’re cute,” Minho tells him, as he cards his fingers through Jisung’s hair. “Go back to sleep.” He drags the blanket up and tucks it around Jisung’s shoulders. Then he’s gone and Jisung is left to decipher whether this was a dream.</p>
<p><em>It isn’t</em>, he thinks, and it is like stumbling over a tripwire of <em>implications</em>. He mocks himself to sleep.</p>
<p>───────</p>
<p>He wakes up at a reasonable time – 8 o’clock – but he notices that Minho is already settling down to work; he’s sitting on a beanbag with his laptop on the coffee table.</p>
<p>“There’s coffee and breakfast in the kitchen,” Minho says as Jisung sits in silence for a few minutes to get his bearings about him, “and Lock looked terribly sad and dejected when I told her that I didn't know what to feed her. I took her out at seven, though.”</p>
<p>“You don’t have to feed her,” Jisung stretches his arms overhead and winces at the way his shoulders and elbows crack, “or cook breakfast. You’re my guest.”</p>
<p>“I’m your hyung,” Minho says, “and I like taking care of you. Always have.”</p>
<p>Jisung throws his blankets off him and gets up. “You wake me up to argue with me and then you attack me with sappiness when I’ve just woken up,” he grumbles as he folds his blankets, “you’re a terrible guest,” he wags a finger at Minho.</p>
<p>“Ungrateful brat,” Minho sounds pleased, “I know where you sleep,” he makes a cutting motion at his throat with his index finger.</p>
<p>A thought flashes through his mind and he <em>has</em> to say it. “Yes, hyung, please take me out,” he says in English and flutters his lashes at Minho. Minho looks flustered, obviously not expecting it. Jisung chuckles and avoids Minho’s kick as he makes his way to the bathroom.</p>
<p>When Jisung enters the kitchen fifteen minutes later, he sees Lock sitting near the cabinet where he keeps her stuff with mournful eyes. She thumps her tail only a little as if she is letting him know that she is disappointed.</p>
<p>“You know that your breakfast time is 8:30, right?” he asks her as he begins to prepare her food. Lock barks and then yawns.</p>
<p>“Ungrateful brat,” he mumbles, but he feels bad when Lock starts jumping on her front paws when he cracks an egg on top of the kibble and then adds her supplements. “I guess you feel hungrier than usual because of winter?” he asks over the sound of Lock inhaling her food. He decides that she is just greedy and helps himself to the rice porridge that Minho has made.</p>
<p>By the time he finishes eating and showering, Lock is asleep and Minho is lost in his work. Lock doesn’t stir and Minho offers him a vague, vacant smile before immersing himself in his work once again. Time passes quickly after that, more so than it does when he’s by himself. Maybe because he can’t stop sneaking glances at Minho or maybe because he doesn’t have much to do – just winter and holiday themed fluff pieces.</p>
<p>It's definitely the first one. Minho cracks his knuckles as he stares intently at his screen. He is pouting in thought and a lick of heat laps at him. <em>I’ve never seen that before</em>.</p>
<p>Minho’s different, but so in Jisung. It’s a different time, a different place. And yet, <em>I feel the same as I did before. </em>And Minho… he’s different too. He glances at him again and flinches because Minho is observing him.</p>
<p>Minho raises a brow. “What’s with all the looks? Can’t get enough of my face?” he asks, ruffling his hair. “I can sit next to you so that you get a perfect view of my side profile,” he grins and he does just that, sitting close and leaving only a hand’s breadth of space between them.</p>
<p>Minho has always been physically affectionate, but this is ridiculous. Jisung loves it. “I was getting hungry, that’s all,” Jisung sniffs and turns back to his ‘ten holiday themed treats to make at home!’ piece. He is <em>not</em> smiling like a fool. “When do you want to eat?”</p>
<p>“I see,” Minho says with an undertone of disbelief, “but, give me an hour and then we can decide, or do you have something in mind already?”</p>
<p>“Not really,” Jisung rubs his chin as he thinks, “I can cook or we can get takeout.” He brightens and snaps his fingers, “oh! We can get takeout and I’ll bake a cake for you. I didn’t get you anything for your birthday…” he dips his head, “and yeah, that pdf was a bad gift.”</p>
<p>Minho pats his knee. “I liked it. Those cats were really cute and funny and looked like they wanted to murder someone. I appreciate that.” He tilts his head, “also I didn’t know that you baked so much.”</p>
<p>“Yeah,” Jisung says, “I mean, I am not perfect, but I am good enough. I can even cook decently now as you know, all thanks to Felix. He said as I long as I follow every word with,” he pauses and makes air quotes, “absolutely no ‘artistic interpretation’ I should be fine. And it really works.”</p>
<p>Minho smile is delighted. “I’d love to have a cake that you baked,” he says, “only if it’s not too much trouble and I want to help you too.”</p>
<p>There’s a sudden darkening in the room as the clouds find the sun. Jisung looks at the windows in time to see the wind beat its fists against the glass. He turns back, and in the dim light of the room, Minho looks stark and bright. He is real and he is here, and there’s a lump in Jisung’s throat as he thinks of what could’ve happened if he hadn’t texted him, all those months back and if Minho hadn’t texted back. <em>Past intertwines with the present</em>.</p>
<p>Minho inclines his head. “Are you okay? You froze for a second there?”</p>
<p>“I was just mentally checking the ingredients,” Jisung says, heart beating in his throat, “let’s go.”</p>
<p>───────</p>
<p><strong>Jisung</strong>: how to exacerbate a crisis: baking together</p>
<p><strong>Hyunjin</strong>: there’s sad and then there’s you</p>
<p><strong>Hyunjin</strong>: go impress him with your skills,,</p>
<p><strong>Hyunjin</strong>:  prove that you’re a worthy mate</p>
<p><strong>Jisung</strong>: ???</p>
<p><strong>Jisung</strong>: are you reading those werewolf romances???</p>
<p><strong>Hyunjin</strong>: no!</p>
<p><strong>Hyunjin</strong>: ugh just get away from me</p>
<p>───────</p>
<p><strong>Jisung</strong>: how to exacerbate a crisis: baking together</p>
<p><strong>Jisung</strong>: also hyunjin reads werewolf romances  (ㆆ_ㆆ)</p>
<p><strong>Jeongin</strong>: i’ll ask hyung if he wants recs</p>
<p><strong>Jisung</strong>: ⊙_☉</p>
<p>───────</p>
<p><strong>Felix</strong>: make me proud</p>
<p><strong>Jisung</strong>: this isn’t about you, it’s about me</p>
<p><strong>Felix</strong>: yes but make me proud and impress him</p>
<p>───────</p>
<p>The kitchen is tiny so it gets crowded when two grown adults and a huge golden retriever cram themselves inside.</p>
<p>Lock, defeated and disgusted by her puzzle toy, is alert for scraps which means that Jisung has to be careful not to drop any chocolate on the ground. Plus, Minho keeps brushing against him and Jisung is flustered and frazzled.</p>
<p>“Chan hyung asked us to come over to his apartment for dinner,” Minho says as he reads the instructions on his phone.</p>
<p>Jisung yawns, shakes his head and continues chopping. “I hope Changbin hyung isn’t cooking.”</p>
<p>“I think it’ll be takeout and alcohol,” Minho grins, “and a lot of drunken singing.”</p>
<p>Jisung wonders if Changbin has confessed. There’s a prickling in the back of his neck when he remembers the conversation at the fair. Minho’s shoulder is pressed against his and has been for the past five minutes and he is humming under his breath. Jisung wants to lean closer and listen to it carefully, tuck the sound away in his mind. It’s been so long since he has heard Minho hum.</p>
<p>Jisung knows what to do, but <em>how</em> is he supposed to do it?</p>
<p>A hand smacks his shoulder. Jisung yelps and swings his head to face Minho who has his arms crossed. “I called your name five time,” he informs Jisung, retracting his hand. Without the warmth of his shoulder, Jisung feels bereft. It is embarrassing <em>and</em> sappy. Second year Jisung had just been embarrassing. And drunk.</p>
<p>“Yeah sorry,” he offers an apologetic grin.</p>
<p>Minho nods and moves to pick up the whisk. “I was just saying that you don’t have stars on your celling here.” He rolls up his sleeves and starts mixing the dry ingredients. “I was surprised.”</p>
<p>Lock nudges her nose against Jisung’s calf. He focuses her frowning face and soft eyes as he thinks.</p>
<p>“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” Minho adds over the clink of the whisk against the metal bowl. “I was just curious.”</p>
<p>Jisung pats Lock and nudges her away before she can get close to his fingers. “No – um,” he exhales, and places the knife on the counter, “I kinda had a falling out with them when all this existential crisis thing started.”</p>
<p>“Falling out?” Minho asks, mouth twitching as he adds butter to the mixture.</p>
<p>Jisung smiles, rubbing the back of his neck. “Is it weird that I – that I feel such a personal connection to the stars? Because it’s a part of my personal philosophy?”</p>
<p>Minho turns to him. “I don’t think so,” he says slowly, “I feel that way too when I am talking about meaning and the space we occupy, and things like that. I think when something means a lot to you, you start relating to it differently.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, then I had a falling out,” Jisung nods, swipes a bit of chocolate from the tip of his finger, “But I made sense of it again and yeah.”</p>
<p>“Hmm,” Minho taps a beat on the counter with his fingers, “that’s great.”</p>
<p>He chops another piece of chocolate as he considers elaborating. It doesn’t seem worth it, however, because he knows that whatever he has come to realise – the intersection of lives and the limits of what we can control – is common knowledge, but he’s lived it and that makes a difference. “I think I’ll go get some stars tomorrow,” Jisung says instead. As a reminder.</p>
<p>“I’ll help you put them up,” Minho says and Jisung wants to kiss him.</p>
<p>He settles for a quick side hug.</p>
<p>───────</p>
<p>“I forgot to ask you, but did you sleep well yesterday?” Jisung asks after only crumbs of the cake and smears of frosting remain on his plate.</p>
<p>Minho cuts another piece of his slice. “Well enough, I was exhausted yesterday and melatonin helps,” he smiles slyly, “both the pills and the playlist.”</p>
<p>Jisung puffs up his chest. “It is <em>exquisitely</em> curated,” he says. “Do you really listen to it?”</p>
<p>Minho laughs. “Isn’t that why you sent it? The whale songs were a good choice.”</p>
<p>“I only make good choices for my playlists,” Jisung jokes, fingers twitching. The gift is right at the top of his stash of presents in his cupboard, but he hesitates and drags his tongue over the front of his teeth to make sure that they aren’t stained with chocolate.</p>
<p>Minho tucks his feet underneath him and fills the silence. “And the fact that I don’t have a lot of work to do till they assign a new project is definitely a bonus. Not much to worry about now.”</p>
<p>“Are you feeling better? Jisung drags a finger through the frosting and licks it off his finger, “about leaving the people in your project behind?”</p>
<p>Minho clears his throat. “Somewhat, yes. I felt a bit ashamed of how emotional I got, but then I thought to myself that I was lucky to have co-workers I’ll miss. Not everyone has them.”</p>
<p>Jisung nods, thinking of Hyunjin, who had shitty co-workers, and himself, who has none at all. “Wait here,” he tells Minho and scrambles to his feet.</p>
<p>Minho’s suitcases are stacked against a corner wall and he has placed a pile of folded clothes on top it. Jisung flushes, wishing he had heeded to his mom’s list of necessary furniture. Other than that, the room is neat because Minho is always conscientious about such things. Jisung picks up the gift and hurries back to the living room.</p>
<p>The plates have been put away and Minho is lounging against one arm of the sofa. “What happened?” he asks and then his eyes fall on the package. “What’s that?”</p>
<p>“This is your birthday gift.” Jisung shoves it into his hand and sits beside him.</p>
<p>Minho looks at the package and then at Jisung. “No! Why? Jisung, come on, the cake was enough.” He frowns as he holds it, “I didn’t get you anything.”</p>
<p>“It’s okay, I won’t forget to hold it over your head,” Jisung teases. He clasps Minho’s wrist and pushes it towards him. He has sweater paws. Minho has no consideration for Jisung’s heart at all. “Go ahead,” he shakes Minho’s wrist, “open it.”</p>
<p>Minho pouts but slits the tape with the nail of his thumb. “I feel bad now. Is this a diamond encrusted watch? It’s a little heavy.”</p>
<p>Jisung watches Minho’s elegant fingers unseal the gift wrapping. “It’s not been six hundred years yet,” he reminds him, “but don’t get your hopes up even after six centuries.”</p>
<p>“It’s only been a few months,” Minho opens the box and his eyes widen as he takes out the sea globe. The overhead lights are switched on and its refraction stains Minho’s fingers in blues and greens. “It feels like such a long time.”</p>
<p>“Yes.” Jisung tracks the swirl of sand inside the globe when Minho shakes it. “But sometimes it feels like we’ve known each other forever.”</p>
<p>Minho’s gaze is a brand. Jisung focuses on the globe. It is the same size as Minho’s palm and he thinks that it would look really pretty on a dark wooden desk that he imagines Minho as having in his office.</p>
<p>“It’s easy to understand each other.” Minho raises his hand to eye level and inspects it. “You always try to understand me.”</p>
<p>“You’ve always made me feel a little less lonely,” Jisung murmurs, voice thick and lips forming the words without him feeling their shape, “and I think I always turn to you at my lowest because you always try to understand me. Even if you don’t have to.” Jisung rubs both his palms on his knees as he meets Minho’s eyes.</p>
<p>Minho’s fingers seize around the globe. “You can’t just – you can’t say things like that when I’m least expecting it,” Minho chides weakly and his eyes are wide, “I – I’ll always try to do that and I…” he is unsure in a way he usually never is. Nervous, too; Jisung notices his clenched fingers.</p>
<p>“I just wanted you to know,” Jisung assures him, “and you don’t have to like, reply immediately, or give one at all. I just wanted to let you know for a while now, is all.”</p>
<p>Minho runs his free hand through his hair and drops the globe back into the box. His eyes are still so wide. “Thank you,” he whispers and then bites his lip.</p>
<p>“Same to you,” Jisung says as he picks at a thread in the hem of his sweatshirt, “I have to thank you for so many things too.”</p>
<p>Silence. Jisung can hear the noise of traffic outside the window even in such heavy snowfall. Life goes on, even if for a moment it feels like there’s a pause in your story, like a short silence before the song changes. <em>That’s why you need people who are there for you</em>, Jisung thinks as warmth curls in his chest when Minho’s eyes crinkle, <em>to help to cross the bridge</em>.</p>
<p>“Thanks for this gift, too,” Minho says and then his sweet smile turns mischievous, “even if it’s not as pretty as you are.”</p>
<p>It takes Jisung a moment to register it and then he hurries to act all cool and unbothered, but Minho’s resounding laugh lets him know that he is failing.</p>
<p>───────</p>
<p>The rest of the day passes quickly. Jisung finishes most of his work, inspired by Minho diligently working his way through company trainings beside him. It’s still a drag, but it isn’t quite like plucking teeth anymore.</p>
<p>In the evening, Jisung packs the rest of the cake and feeds Lock before he dresses. He picks his thickest coat and wraps himself in as many layers as he can. Minho shoots him an amused look when Jisung emerges from his bedroom.</p>
<p>“You look like you’re going to the Artic,” Minho comments as he zips up his boots.</p>
<p>“It’s definitely like the Artic out there,” Jisung grumbles darkly, gesturing at the window.</p>
<p>It’s snowing when they leave and it coats the paths that Hyunchul has shoveled. Jisung hunches his shoulders and pulls his beanie lower and leads the way to Chan and Changbin’s flat. The moment the door opens Minho is pulled into a hug.</p>
<p>Jisung laughs and sidesteps them to go the kitchen to put away the cake. There’s a pile of pizza boxes and fried chicken containers on the countertop and beer. The best combination really. Jisung is an <em>adult </em>now<em>, </em>so he doesn’t take a bottle and instead goes back to the living room to wait for the others to finish. Minho, Chan and Changbin are still in the middle of an aggressive and loud group hug. Jisung watches with amusement as all three of them yell and talk over each other and laugh all at once and Minho tries to fight his way out of the hug.</p>
<p>Chan looks over at him. “Jisung! Why are you hovering in a corner like Cinderella? Come here,” Chan says, beckoning with his hands, smile crooked and pleased.</p>
<p>Changbin turns his head and grins, “I can’t believe he doesn’t already have a drink in his hand.”</p>
<p>Jisung glares at him without any heat as he walks towards them. “You’re the reason I even developed a taste for drinking,” he says, “remember how you used to drag us to buy alcohol in college?”</p>
<p>Changbin pretends to wipe a tear. “I have completed my duty as a hyung.” He yanks at Jisung’s hand and drags him into the hug. “You actually used to think that wine coolers were the best beverage.”</p>
<p>“That was Hyunjin! Not me!” Jisung yelps when Changbin yanks him into the hug by his arm. It is warm and it smells like an amalgamation of their colognes.</p>
<p>“I wish all my kids were here,” Chan says, pressing closer, his fingers digging into Jisung’s arm. “Our last meeting was <em>weeks</em> ago and Seungmin isn’t here.”</p>
<p>“We can have a getaway next year or something.” Minho’s voice muffled by Changbin’s shoulder. “We should just go away somewhere for the weekend. Maybe to the coast.”</p>
<p>“Changbin hyung, please stop strangling me,” Jisung complains, “also your perfume is really strong.”</p>
<p>“You wish you smelled as good as me,” Changbin sniffs, tightening his grip for a second before he pulls out from the hug. He fixes his hair, “if we go to the sea can we dump him into it?” he asks pointing at Jisung.</p>
<p>“We’re not going to murder anyone,” Chan warns, moving to kitchen. “Can someone help me?” he calls from the kitchen.</p>
<p>Minho and Changbin both start walking, but Jisung grips Changbin’s elbow, leaving Minho to walk ahead. Jisung raises a brow and nods at the kitchen when Changbin gives him a puzzled look.</p>
<p>“Oh, not yet,” Changbin murmurs, shooting a guarded glance at Chan who returns with the food. “But soon.”</p>
<p>“Same,” Jisung says and laughs at Changbin’s surprised expression. <em>As soon as I figure out the how</em>, he doesn’t add because it’s something that he’ll have to figure out on his own.</p>
<p>Two hours later, the food is gone and alcohol is rapidly dwindling. Jisung’s fingers are sticky with sauce and grease. He can even smell grease on his breath and his tissue paper turns gray with oil when he wipes his fingers.</p>
<p>In a show of restraint, Jisung isn’t drinking that much. He is doing this new-fangled thing called ‘nursing one’s drink’ and he doesn’t even take a shot when Chan gets vodka out of the freezer. It’s so strange he muses, that he’d had feelings for Minho when he’d been about to leave and he still has those same feelings even now when Minho’s back. <em>Past really does intertwine with the present</em>, he thinks wryly, <em>even if everything is reconfigured. </em></p>
<p>The rest of them are sloshed.</p>
<p>“And I had to travel so much every day,” Chan wails, waving his hand, “two hours to and two hours fro. Four hours to and fro! Four!”</p>
<p>“Commute is…” Minho says and then pauses, his eyes drifting to the ceiling as he thinks. He leans forward as if spilling a secret, “is the worst.”</p>
<p>“Yeah!” Chan agrees. He slings an arm around Changbin’s shoulder and drags him into his side. “I’ve been so much  happier since Changbin said – ‘hyung, why don’t we move in together.’”</p>
<p>Minho starts cheering and clapping. Changbin looks star struck and his eyes are firmly fixed on the side of Chan’s face. “One decision,” Chan continues, “and everything changed.”</p>
<p>“Yeah,” Changbin croaks and his face is a dull red. Jisung can’t tell if it’s the alcohol or if he’s flustered because he’s usually so unflappable that it is difficult to imagine him blushing. He files it away to prod Changbin later.</p>
<p>“Mine too!” Minho says, all languid and lazy in the way he gets when he’s been drinking for a while. He’s draped on the pink wing chair like one of those big cats that lounge on branches. “I made a decision too,” he glances at Jisung for the briefest second before looking away, his ear turning red, “and it worked out well.”</p>
<p>Jisung stares at his beer, frozen, mind stuck on the way Minho had glanced at him.  He bites his lip as he searches for a response. “Life is weird sometimes,” he mumbles, picking at the label of his bottle. It’s only his second one and there’s three quarters of it left. Yet he still feels dizzy and warm as if he’s drunk. “All those little decisions having such a massive outcome.”</p>
<p>Chan gives him an affectionate look. Then he reaches forward and slaps Minho’s knee, “you’ve made him a pop philosopher too.”</p>
<p>Minho raises his glass and tips it at Jisung. “He was always pretentious like me. It was quite easy,” he laughs.</p>
<p>“Hey!”</p>
<p>Later, Jisung has to wrangle Minho out of the door because he refuses to leave without, “teasing Changbin for having grandpa hair at least five times.” Minho is crouched on the floor, trying to zip up his boots with clumsy fingers. “I only did that three times!”</p>
<p>Jisung buttons his coat and drops to his knees to help Minho. This close he can smell Minho with every inhalation. He swallows and pulls up the zips with a quick tug. He stands and offers a hand to Minho. Minho’s hand is soft and his grip is tight.</p>
<p>“You’re really sweet.” Minho’s eyes are glazed but they find Jisung’s face all the same. “I thought you were really prickly at first even though you looked like you were going to cry.”</p>
<p>Chan and Changbin are sitting on the sofa, heads bent towards each other as they talk. “I am very sweet, all the grannies say so,” Jisung replies as he opens the front door. “And Changbin hyung’s hair looks great. You just want an excuse to pick on him.” His ears are burning and he doesn’t know what to say when Minho has such an intensity about him. He follows Minho out of the door and closes the door with his heel.</p>
<p>“Yeah,” Minho nods, thankfully not mentioning the change in topic. Or maybe he hasn’t noticed it yet. “He called me a pig four times,” he grumbles.</p>
<p>“You stole all the mushrooms he’d been saving, that's why he called you a pig,” Jisung snorts and yelps when Minho stumbles on a step. “Hyung!” he grabs Minho’s sleeve, “be careful.”</p>
<p>“I think you should hold my hand and help me walk,” Minho tells him seriously. “You don’t want me to break my nose, do you?”</p>
<p>“I don’t need a reason to hold your hand,” Jisung says under his breath, looping his fingers around Minho’s wrist.</p>
<p>The complex is poorly lit, the lights casting more shadows than they disperse. There’s a crisp wind whipping around them and the trees bend under its direction. Jisung’s boots leave inch deep indents on the snow. Minho presses flush against him.</p>
<p>“Do you ever just feel full?” Minho asks when they near Jisung’s building. He squeezes Jisung’s fingers as if urging him to answer.</p>
<p>“Full?” Jisung asks. His fingertips are tingling and he is trying his best not to keep inhaling Minho’s scent. He has probably sprayed cologne on the shoulder pads of his coat and neck too, Jisung thinks nonsensically. “Do you mean like, having a full stomach?”</p>
<p>Minho shakes his head. “No!” His voice echoes a little in the empty courtyard. “Like full of everything. <em>Everything</em>.”</p>
<p>“Do you mean that your heart is full?” Jisung drags Minho closer when he stumbles a little. “Careful, hyung. You’ll break your foot at this rate.”</p>
<p>“Even my foot is full. I mean… my entire body and heart is full,” Minho’s smile is wide and his eyes are twinkling even in the dim light. “Just…I feel full and nice.”</p>
<p>“That’s great, hyung.” Jisung says, heart trying to beat out of his chest. This romance business is turning out to be an exercise in control. He maneuvers Minho towards his building. His breath mists in the air and the fingers of his left hand are freezing. He should set a reminder for gloves next time onwards.</p>
<p>“Do you feel full, too?” Minho demands. He is leaning his entire weight on Jisung now and he is heavy.</p>
<p>Jisung whines and pushes at him. “Hyung, I can’t help you if you pretend to be a log of wood,” he says and it comes out fonder than he intends. Almost there.</p>
<p>Minho straightens some, but he drags Jisung to a stop. “Do you feel full too?” he asks again and he looks so serious that it surprises Jisung. Minho grabs Jisung’s other hand and brings both their hands up. He holds them near his heart. “Do you, Jisungie?”</p>
<p>Jisung notices for the first time that Minho is not wearing gloves either. Minho must’ve left it back at Changbin’s place because he was definitely wearing them when they had arrived. Minho’s hands are somehow warmer than his except for the cold arcs of his rings. Minho squeeze his fingers again. Their breaths mingle.</p>
<p>Was it this silent before or is Jisung just observing it now? The complex seems to be waiting with baited breath, every window watching the two of them. Jisung is sweating under his coat.</p>
<p>“Yes, I do,” he whispers and he is stuck here, lost in the way every muscle on Minho’s face is frozen, except for his eyes that keep flickering over Jisung’s face. “I feel really full – completely full right now.” His heart is thundering in his ears and he is slipping down a path where the brakes won’t work.</p>
<p>“Good,” Minho says, stepping away, “that’s all I wanted to hear.” A pause. “Let’s go back. My head is spinning.”</p>
<p>Jisung can be blown away by a breeze, that’s how unrooted he is. But he can’t move because his feet seem to have adhered to the cement beneath him. Minho take his hand again and tugs. Jisung exhales and follows him before his breath dissipates. His mind is so blank that the wind seems to whistle through his ears.</p>
<p>───────</p>
<p>
  <em>22<sup>nd</sup> December, 20__</em>
</p>
<p>Minho is a sad ball of pain in the morning, so Jisung makes omelettes and then hunts for painkillers and antacids.</p>
<p>“Did you drink water before you slept?” Jisung asks, watching Minho who is hunched over his plate. “I gave you a glass of water.”</p>
<p>Minho chews with furrowed brows. “It wasn’t enough and I was too lazy to get up.” His voice is watery with pain. “Now, I’m regretting it.”</p>
<p>Jisung pats Minho’s hand. “Ah, hyung, you could’ve texted me or something… I’m always up pretty late.”</p>
<p>Minho mutters something and takes another bite of omelette. He looks mutinous for some reason. “I shouldn’t have drunk so much.”</p>
<p>“I know,” Jisung carefully tucks his limbs away from Minho’s reach, “especially at your age.”</p>
<p>Minho throws the strip of antacids on his face and glowers. Jisung snickers. “It’s true! You asked for antacids, hyung. You looked like you were going to weep in joy when I gave them to you.”</p>
<p>“I have a sensitive stomach! Stop being mean,” Minho complains before crossing his arms and groaning. “My head,” he whimpers.</p>
<p>Why is he so cute? Jisung gathers his plate and chopsticks and pats Minho’s hair on his way to the sink, his fingers lingering, thumb drawing soothing circles on his temple. “You should go back to sleep after breakfast.” His hair is so soft. “It’ll – uh,” Minho is pushing his head into Jisung’s hand and his eyes are closed. “…make you feel better.”</p>
<p>“Your hand is so cold,” Minho murmurs and face falls when Jisung retracts his hand. “Yeah – I’ll sleep.”</p>
<p>Not trusting himself to speak, he deposits the dishes in the sink before opening the fridge door. Lock is immediately at his side, eyes roving over the shelves. “There’s nothing here. I need to restock,” he says as he makes a mental note of stuff he’ll need. Not much, since both of them will be leaving the day after – Jisung with Lock in tow; for all her numerous faults, his aunty loves animals – but he does need to stock up if they want to cook dinner.</p>
<p>“We can go to the supermarket together,” Minho says, “we can go in the afternoon, right?”</p>
<p>Jisung nods. There’s a loop stuck in his head: <em>how? how? how?</em> And after last night, when he’d actually thought – he shakes his head. Not now in any case because Minho is surreptitiously trying to stuff four antacid pills into mouth and looks like he’ll over keel over in a few seconds.</p>
<p>───────</p>
<p>“I’m ready,” Jisung announces, stepping into the living room.</p>
<p>Minho blinks at him and then again. “That’s a lot more layers than yesterday,” he says. “But you look – adorable. Really adorable,” he mumbles. The tips of his ears are pink. “Don’t forget your gloves today.”</p>
<p>Jisung’s stomach heaves as he goes back to his room to get them. He wishes his layers were enough to hide from the onslaught of Minho’s wide eyes and windswept hair or the way his clothes flatter him. He shoves them into his pocket and sits down on the floor to lace his boots. “You look like a fashion plate, hyung.” he huffs. Is there something called a shoe stool?</p>
<p>“Fashion plate?” Minho sounds amused. He is bursting with energy after his nap and he has been glinting in that way he does when he is in a mischievous mood.</p>
<p>“Yeah,” Jisung really hopes his ears aren’t giving him away, “like, we get it you are good looking, there’s no need to dress well and shove it in our faces.”</p>
<p>“Ah, I’ve never heard of this before, please elaborate,” Minho says, voice rumbling with laughter. “What was that about me being good looking again?”</p>
<p>Jisung sighs. “You misheard me, I said you’re obnoxious,” he says as he gets up. He clips the leash on Lock’s collar and offers her a treat.</p>
<p>“I heard what you said, Jisungie,” Minho says, “I’ll always keep it in my heart.”</p>
<p>Jisung groans but he doesn’t mind, not really. What bothers him more is the dizzying flight of butterflies inside him and the way his blush refuses to fade. He’d also spent all the time Minho had napped in a state of despair. Yesterday’s…conversation in the courtyard had been running on a loop in his mind and that footage was spliced with everything that has been going on between them. So, he’s frazzled and…excited.</p>
<p>Lock likes the snow but hates her boots. She walks awkwardly, lifting her feet high and thumping it down before investigating the contraption on her feet with exasperation. It makes a ten-minute walk to the grocery store longer, but that’s fine, she’s cute as fuck. It also lets Jisung focus on something other than his thoughts, and he’s glad for it.</p>
<p>Then Minho switches over to his left side and grabs his hand when they reach the crosswalk. “How do you always forget your gloves?” he asks. “You cover yourself from head to toe otherwise.”</p>
<p>Jisung decides that his adrenal glands are malfunctioning because he is sure he isn’t to experience such swooping and fluttering. This is stressful. Just because he is enjoying it doesn’t mean that it still isn’t stress.</p>
<p>“I forget things I can’t see,” Jisung says starting to cross. Minho laces his gloved fingers with Jisung’s. “So, um, because I never wear them, they are never lying about somewhere and I forget,” he shrugs.</p>
<p>“Then I am glad that you didn’t forget me,” Minho teases.</p>
<p>“Hyung,” Jisung whines. “I said I’m sorry.”</p>
<p>“I know, I know,” Minho says, “I am really glad that you contacted me again though, Jisungie. It really did mean a lot to me.”</p>
<p>Jisung chooses a cart, does the push-pull dance that he always does and nearly falls when it comes free with a jerk. He turns and finds both Lock and Minho staring at him. “It’s evil incarnate,” he mumbles.</p>
<p>“Let’s leave this embarrassing man here and run,” Minho stage whispers to Lock.</p>
<p>“Shut up,” Jisung huffs. Everyone’s against him.</p>
<p>Once inside, Jisung broaches the topic again. “It means a lot to me too,” he says, scrolling through the list on his phone. “And I don’t mind joking about it because actions speak louder than words, right? Remember when you called me to ask why I was talking to you again and then you said you need time? I honestly expected you to not contact me again…” he darts a look at Minho, finds him watching him. “But you did and that’s what is important here, I guess.”</p>
<p>“Ah, don’t be so humble, Sungie. You picked up the phone and contacted me first. W eboth worked hard to let bygones be bygones.” Then Minho winces and picks an apple. “I was really harsh when I called you. I am sorry about that.”</p>
<p>“No – I think anyone would’ve been harsh,” Jisung fiddles with his phone, “but you still gave our friendship a chance.”</p>
<p>Minho rolls the apple in his hand, bottom lip caught between his teeth. All the mischievousness has evaporated. “I wasn’t going to,” he says, not quite holding Jisung’s gaze, “I told you, right? That I was really angry?”</p>
<p>Jisung swallows, drops the arm holding the phone. “Yeah.”</p>
<p>Minho places the apple back and moves towards the grapes. Jisung follows him, lugging the cart. It is a weekday, so the supermarket is half empty. Still, Jisung feels raw like he is under a microscope with all his emotions being telegraphed on his face. Minho’s face is impassive, but he can’t keep his hands still.</p>
<p>“I thought to myself, is it the right time to be unyielding? Should I be stubborn and hold on to my anger even when you reached out to me?” he pauses, smooths his hair, “The correct answer seemed to be that I should yield.”</p>
<p>“You remember that?” Jisung asks, voice cracking. He’s too full again, and he is brimming over, and everything is exposed – his heart and his thoughts and his roiling, too big feelings.</p>
<p>Minho frowns at him. “Of course, I do. How can I forget what you said?”</p>
<p>“I –” the answer to ‘how’ is at the tip of his tongue. The shop starts to squeeze around him and everything is too clear, too bright. The redness on the apples of Minho’s cheeks, the greenness of the grapes, the cold handle of the cart under his fingers. “I want to kiss you,” he says, even before he realises what he is saying. <em>If it is above a whisper, then it’s real.</em></p>
<p>There is a second of silence.</p>
<p>“I want to kiss you too,” Minho says quietly, but Jisung hears him even over the roar in his ears, over the threat of drowning, “I wanted to kiss you yesterday,” he continues, eyes finding Jisung’s and not wavering an inch, “I’ve wanted to kiss you for some time now.”</p>
<p>Jisung’s mind goes quiet. A moment later, the words sink in. Minho laughs and it is high pitched and a bit hysterical. “I didn’t – I had a <em>speech</em> prepared and now,” he gestures at the space around, “<em>here</em>. I can’t believe.”</p>
<p>Jisung exhales and his breath whistles. He gives a watery chuckle. “I’m sorry! I can’t believe I confessed in a supermarket and in the fruit aisle at that. I didn’t mean to – ” he’s laughing now and he lets go of the shopping cart to give Minho a quick hug. “It just slipped out!”</p>
<p>“I’ll never forgive you for this,” Minho says, and his face is shocked and a little dazed. “Should we – should we finish shopping? We will kiss when we get back?” he says the last part in a whisper because a couple of employees are staring at them with unabashed interest.</p>
<p>Shopping. Correct. “Yeah, yes,” Jisung nods, head aching with the force of it, “when we’re back, definitely.”</p>
<p>“Not immediate, but inevitable,” Minho says with a wink and he can’t wink properly and that makes affection burst in Jisung’s heart.</p>
<p>Jisung can only nod again. He parts from Minho’s side with great reluctance. Minho gives him a lingering, awed gaze before moving to the vegetable section and Jisung follows without knowing what he is doing.</p>
<p>Picking out vegetables, toothpaste, eggs and stars with a promised kiss hanging over his head is surreal, especially when they bicker the whole time and touch each other constantly and there’s no space between their bodies. Surreal but <em>nice</em>.</p>
<p> Minho insists that he should buy cabbage because, “they’re a good source of potassium, Jisungie!”</p>
<p>“I don’t like it, hyung,” he complains, making a face when Minho places it in his cart.</p>
<p>“Potassium helps with muscle cramps,” Minho says.</p>
<p>“I only creak like an old cupboard,” Jisung tells him, “I don’t twitch like a rabbit or whatever and you’re the one with joints that keep cracking when you move.”</p>
<p>Minho rounds on him and crosses his arms. “It’s genetic! Even my mom’s joints do the same thing!” He pushes the cart till it bumps Jisung and causes him to stumble. Minho’s immediately at his side to hold him though and Jisung rolls his eyes.</p>
<p>“Yeah, right, blame everything on your genes. You even blamed your looks on your genes,” Jisung straightens himself and picks up the cabbage, “has it ever occurred to you that your face is stuck like this because you keep pulling faces?”</p>
<p>“Brat,” Minho growls and tries to step on Jisung’s toes. “I actually wanted to try out a dish that needs cabbage, so can we please get it?”</p>
<p>Jisung sighs and puts it back in the cart.</p>
<p>Then Minho offers to buy a smaller container so that, “you can keep some salt in the top shelf like a civilised human,” but Jisung refuses and they argue about optimal salt placement for the next ten minutes. Next they debate about buying planet stickers to go along with the stars.</p>
<p>“They look pretty,” Minho says, holding a packet in front of his face, “they’ll look good on your ceiling.”</p>
<p>Jisung drops two packets of ‘Luminescent star stickers safe for children and walls. Good for nurseries’ in his cart. “I know, but I’ve only used stars as a constant symbol in my life,” he frowns as he thinks, “and I can’t think of any soppy philosophy to attach to the planets right now.”</p>
<p>“Maybe after we’re done putting up the stars,” Minho says, “you can tell me about any ideas that you have about romanticizing the planets.” He smiles and pets Jisung’s cheek.</p>
<p>It’s the mundane and the strange together. Walking through the aisles and deciding between different brands while hovering too close to Minho. Laughing at a ridiculous product and his eyes falling on Minho’s lips, staying there. Paying for everything, heart tripping at the thought of what awaits.</p>
<p>The walk back is hazy and then they’re back at the flat before Jisung knows what’s happening. All Jisung remembers is quick footsteps and the steady pressure of Minho’s hand against his because he was too busy trying to figure out if he used enough mouthwash today, and trying to control the swirling anticipation that made his lips tingle and his chest tighten.</p>
<p>Free of her shoes, Lock runs around the hall as Jisung unlaces his boots with trembling fingers. He sheds his coat and his scarf. Minho is standing on the rug, arms by his side, the sunlight streaming through his hair and tinting strands of it gold. He is smiling – he has been doing that so often around him, Jisung realises, and so has he – and his expression is one of such fondness that it makes him flush to his toes.</p>
<p>The flat is silent except for the sound of Lock lapping at her water. Jisung’s socked feet doesn’t make a whisper of noise. He is standing in front of Minho. He breathes out a soft, “hello.” It hangs in the space between them. </p>
<p>“Hello,” Minho says and he leans forward.</p>
<p>He anticipates it, but his stomach still drops. Minho tilts his head and Jisung moves forward, presses his lips against Minho’s and then it is a firm pressure, a deepening, an undulation. Jisung’s toes itch because they’re a little sweaty but Minho’s hands are warm against his face. His thoughts fly hither and thither – swirl and circle round and round over everything and register as static. </p>
<p>There’s a spot on Minho’s chin that he has forgotten to shave. He smells clean and sharp and his fingers wind through Jisung’s hair and tug gently. Jisung makes a sound, tilting his head. He is overwhelmed by the way Minho seems to engulf him. His thoughts converge to the spark of pleasure that lights him when Minho pulls back and nips at his lips.</p>
<p>“Jisungie,” Minho whispers. He is so close that Jisung can’t see him properly though he can’t stop looking. “Fuck.”</p>
<p>Jisung closes the distance again, flicks his tongue against Minho’s lip, and sucks his bottom lip into his mouth. It isn't a quietening, nor is it like fireworks. It is the warmth of Minho’s shoulder under his arm, the feel of Minho’s fingers at the nape of his neck. It is soft and unassuming, crackles of pleasure and a smile that makes them break apart. His consciousness coalesces around Minho.</p>
<p>“I want,” Minho pauses, untangles himself from Jisung’s embrace. “I want to…” his throat works as his eyes burn with a promise and Jisung can’t think even though he can’t stop thinking, “kiss you without an audience.”</p>
<p>Arms still around Minho’s shoulder, he turns to look at Lock. She’s scratching her neck and when she notices Jisung, her tail starts thumping. Jisung’s burst of laughter echoes in the room. He’s dizzy and his fingertips tingle and he digs his feet into the rug to ground himself as warmth floods him. </p>
<p>Minho’s eyes are wide and there’s a bright smile unfurling on his face. His lips are slick, inviting. Jisung’s heart stutters, leaps. “What are we waiting for,” he says and he grasps Minho’s arm and starts dragging him to the bedroom.</p>
<p>Minho’s laugh is loud.</p>
<p>───────</p>
<p>“My neck didn’t hurt this much when I put the stars up in first year,” Jisung grumbles. He’s lying face down on his bed and Minho is straddling his back. It’s snowing again and the light of early evening is darkened by the heavy flurry of it. He gasps when Minho’s fingers dig into the small of his back.</p>
<p>“That’s because you hunch your back like a question mark,” Minho says, thumbs working on a sore spot that makes Jisung squirm, “also you’re basically an old man with terrible joints and a bad back. But you do have a great ass,” he says, squeezing Jisung’s cheeks.</p>
<p>“No you. And I’m going to ignore everything except for the ‘great ass’ bit,” Jisung mumbles into the pillow. He reaches a hand behind him to pat Minho’s hip because he is all cottony and mushy and he is enamoured by Minho and his fingers. “Your ass is great too,” he adds. “Ten on ten.”</p>
<p>“So, you’ve said,” Minho says, moving towards his upper back, “amongst the many others you said today. What were they again?”</p>
<p>“I feel like you’re fishing for compliments.” Jisung giggles when Minho’s fingers stray towards his ribs. “Okay, okay,” he heaves a dramatic sigh, “you’re the bestest, brightest, prettiest star in the entire galaxy,” he rattles off in the most obnoxious voice he can muster.</p>
<p>Minho snickers, his hands curving over the swell of Jisung’s ribs. “I can’t believe you just called me a spherical object.”</p>
<p>“What – no!” Jisung shrieks as Minho’s starts tickling him. He flails and bucks his hips, trying to squirm away. “Stop it – shit! Minho hyung!” He scrabbles up when Minho moves, but then Minho knocks into him and rolls him onto his back. “Fiend!” he yells through a gale of laughter when Minho attacks his stomach. He smacks Minho’s shoulders, “I hate you!” </p>
<p>Minho grabs his hands and pins them above his head. “No, you don’t,” he teases, using his free hand to relentlessly attack every sensitive spot. He’s laughing too and his eyes shine with mirth.</p>
<p>Jisung trashes under him trying to twist away and his stomach aches with laughter.  “You’ll - ah! stop - fuck!”</p>
<p>Minho pats his waist before letting go of Jisung’s hand. He leans forward and buries his face in the curve between Jisung’s neck and shoulder, his frame vibrating. He smacks a kiss below Jisung’s ear. “You’re so adorable.”</p>
<p>“You’re a demon,” Jisung says, whacking Minho’s quivering back. He shivers when Minho’s breath washes over his ear. “I welcome you into my home and my heart and this is how you repay me,” he grumbles.</p>
<p>Minho rises and properly straddles Jisung’s hips. “You’ve welcomed me into your heart, huh?” he says, a smile lighting his face. </p>
<p>Jisung’s breath stutters and he places his hands on Minho’s waist just to feel his warmth. “Yes,” Jisung says. How can he lie when Minho is looking at him with such fondness? “I have.”</p>
<p>Minho traces Jisung’s bare collarbone with a finger. “I have too,” he says and his voice quietens, but there’s an incandescent affection and awe that underlines his words. The sound vibrates right under Jisung’s skin. </p>
<p>“I can’t –” Jisung mumbles as his heart pounds against his ribs, “Minho hyung, you’re <em>here</em>.”</p>
<p>Minho’s mouth twitches, “I am.” He leans down and kisses Jisung. </p>
<p>“Yes,” Jisung whispers against his mouth when Minho breaks the kiss. He presses his fingers firmly against the soft skin of Minho’s waist. “I just – I’m… full of happiness.”</p>
<p>“I am too,” Minho says and leans down again.</p>
<p>───────</p>
<p>“What’re your plans for next year, hyung?” Jisung asks, leaning back on his chair. The restaurant is packed to its brim and the din of conversation hovers like a cloud. He takes a sip of his drink, smiles as it settles like a gentle haze on his mind. A third drink is always a good idea. </p>
<p>Minho dabs the corner of his mouth. “Well, there’s the new project and I’m kind of worried about that.” His brows crease a little. “I know there’s nothing to worry about but I’m still nervous.”</p>
<p>Jisung shakes his head and leans forward. “You’ll be great! And I’m not saying it because you’re smart and talented – I’m saying it because you work hard and always give your best,” he insists, more strongly than necessary, but wine always makes him emotional. </p>
<p>Minho grins, “damn. How can I be nervous now after that thumping endorsement?” He pats Jisung’s hand that’s resting on the table. “But, thanks, Sungie.”</p>
<p>Jisung laces his fingers with Minho’s. “My endorsements are free for you,” he says, waggling his brows. </p>
<p>“You’re such a lightweight,” Minho says then untangles their hands and laughs when Jisung pouts. “I need to finish eating, Jisungie.”</p>
<p>Jisung sighs. “My struggles are endless.” He takes a wig of his wine and closes his eyes, the small, twinkling lights of the restaurant glimmering behind his eyes. He’s exhausted, but it tinged with sweetness; the elusive kind that occurs when you there’s a safe haven and peace awaiting you. </p>
<p>“How awful,” Minho comments and when Jisung opens his eyes, he sees that Minho has a mocking smile on his lips, “such endless pain. It’s not like I can spend more time with you now and we’re definitely not going to go on dates.”</p>
<p>Jisung rolls his eyes even though there’s a flush creeping up his neck at the promise, at the certainty. “You’re so cheesy.” </p>
<p>“You like it,” Minho winks and snickers when Jisung makes a disgusted face. “How are all your expressions cute?”</p>
<p>“It’s dark sorcery,” Jisung wiggles his fingers. “Anyway, you didn’t finish – what else are you looking forward to?” He frowns, “is that what I asked?”</p>
<p>“You asked what my plans were,” Minho says and takes a bite of lasagna, “but, yeah other keeping my job and my friends and family in focus,” he tilts his head, “along with you, of course, I don’t have any specific plans.”</p>
<p>“Stop saying things like that,” Jisung whines, “I don’t know what to say, okay.” He places his wine glass on the table and flicks the bowl as he says, “but hyung, that’s actually a great plan. Like plans are just – I don’t know, a way to set yourself up for disappointment? This year was such a doozy for me that I’m just going to copy you and have focus areas.”</p>
<p>Minho puffs out his chest. “Look at you, learning from your wise elders.”</p>
<p>“Maybe I’ll keep you around for your wisdom,” Jisung teases, emboldened by the wine. He snarks back and forth with Minho as he eats and then they use a random number generator website to choose the dessert, but end up ordering both. </p>
<p>Minho’s earrings glint in the light and his hair flops over his forehead every time he moves his head. It is probably the wine, but Minho is so solid and real that Jisung’s heart pitches against his chest in a gentle rhythm. He giggles when Jisung wipes chocolate from the corner of Minho’s mouth and there’s an uncommon sunburst of warmth in Jisung’s chest. </p>
<p>
  <em>Minho is here.</em>
</p>
<p>They share silence as they walk back to the complex, hands intertwined. Minho is humming, lost in thought. Jisung watches him more than he watches the road, but the crowd directs him forward and keeps him from falling. </p>
<p>There’s still so much to do, Jisung muses. Unless he sits down and reworks his business, it’ll be a mess. Well, it’s already a mess and he doesn’t even like what he’s doing, so that’s another separate issue he has to wade into. </p>
<p><em>But that’s alright</em>, he thinks, <em>I have things to look forward to as well. </em></p>
<p>───────</p>
<p>Jisung carefully untucks his arm from Minho’s waist and rolls onto his back. He has a slight headache and there’s not a single grain of sleep laying claim on him. He shifts a little and drags the blanket to his chin.</p>
<p>“Go to sleep,” Minho grumbles as he turns and seeks Jisung’s warmth. He throws an arm around Jisung’s waist and tightens his grip. “It’s late.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, sorry,” he whispers, his stomach swooping beneath the weight of Minho’s arm.</p>
<p>Minho kisses his shoulder and nuzzles his nose against it. “Sleep.”</p>
<p>Jisung wonders what Jisung of the past thinks about this – about him cuddling with Minho, synapses firing away, and his incapability to stop smiling. He grins at the ceiling and his mind refuses to stop spinning as he thinks. He is addled, drunk on new light that keeps finding its way through the cracks.</p>
<p>The room is pitch dark and the fan whines as it rotates at the lowest speed. The stars on the ceiling shine brightly, deriving their light from the darkness around them. He looks at the stars and they look back at him with their steady, fluorescent light.</p>
<p>He closes his eyes and the stars twinkle under his eyelids.</p>
<p>───────</p>
<p>We can touch the spaces…</p>
<p>And wonder we could care</p>
<p>For that old faded midnight</p>
<p>That frightened but for an hour.</p>
<p>            - Emily Dickinson</p>
<p>
  <strong>Finish.</strong>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Look mom, I finished it ╥﹏╥</p>
<p>Phew! That was really long. Thank you so much for sticking around till the end &lt;33 Your comments and thoughts mean a lot and I would love to hear them!!</p>
<p>
  <b>|<a href="https://twitter.com/liquorish_roots">twitter</a>|</b>
  <br/>
  <b>|<a href="https://curiouscat.me/trip_the_zipp">curious cat</a>|</b>
</p>
<p><b>References</b><br/>anthropomorphic tortoise – Franklin the Tortoise</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>
  <b>|<a href="https://twitter.com/liquorish_roots">twitter</a>|</b>
  <br/>
  <b>|<a href="https://curiouscat.me/trip_the_zipp">curious cat|</a></b>
</p><p><b>References</b><br/><i>Light finds the cracks</i> – Anthem, Leonard Cohen<br/><i>you may have thousands of my days…which I can be merry and happy</i> – The Old Oak Tree’s Last Dream, Hans Christian Andersen<br/><i>“Find something that gives you purpose, have a moral structure... inspiring incident.”</i> – Viktor Frankl’s three ways to discover meaning (doing a deed, experiencing something, attitude towards suffering) and Baumeister’s Four Needs for Meaning (purpose, value, self-efficacy and self-worth)<br/><i>The Pit and the Pendulum</i> – Poe<br/><i>Mushroom face TV show </i>– Hannibal </p><p>
  <a href="https://open.spotify.com/playlist/03VF2MRVIZj7U9pHN9OTit?si=mbs9H0okQHuppRIWdvHTbQ">sad life, sad sad</a>
</p><p>Hope you liked it thus far! I would love to hear your thoughts and comments &lt;3</p></blockquote></div></div>
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